


One Does Not Simply Ship Destiel

by claimingsanctuary (timeschange)



Series: Elves and Shipping [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Shipper!Sam, Shipping, Slow Build, Smut, fandom references, mostly lord of the rings, seriously lots of them, shipper!charlie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-18 05:25:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1416712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeschange/pseuds/claimingsanctuary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is finally starting to figure out why Dean and Cas are so intense around each other. It makes sense, really. Granted, nothing is going to come of the longing glances and secret pining unless somebody does something. Sam takes it upon himself to do that something. Buy as it turns out, getting Dean and Cas together is more difficult than he imagines.<br/>When the case they're working-- a creature straight out of the Lord of the Rings-- reminds him of a good friend, Sam decides to call in the big guns. Charlie shows up to help with operation Destiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fellowship of Free Will

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Destiel fic...so feedback is appreciated? (Particularly feedback on my characterization) I figured a good ol' "first time" case fic is fitting for my first ever fanfiction, so here it is! 
> 
> I'm going to try to keep it fairly short (less than 30,000 words), so we'll see how that goes!
> 
> I don't know the protocol here...but I don't own these characters (obviously...I wish I did) so...yeah. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

The shower’s water turned from hot to cold almost instantly, making Dean curse and scramble to get out of the water’s path. He hit his shin on the shower’s weird, built-in shampoo shelf and swore louder. When the cheap shampoo dripped into his eyes, making them sting like hell, he didn't even have it left in him to react.

He turned the water off and toweled himself dry.

“Everything okay in there?” Sam asked through the door, a trace of amusement in his voice.

Dean scowled at the door. “Just peachy, Sam,” he growled.

He was in a bad mood. _Again._ Or maybe it was the same never-ending bad mood. In his line of work every day was bad in its own way, but lately Dean had just been having more and more of those days that were excruciatingly bad for no reason. Those were the worst, in his opinion, because there was nothing he could do to make things better.

Normally there was a villain. Someone he could blame. Someone to hate. There was yellow-eyes, then Lilith and Ruby, followed by Lucifer, Eve, and Dick. Point is, when there was an enemy to fight, Dean could keep fighting. But with this, he was at a loss. He didn't know where this anger was coming from, so there was no one to blame. It pissed him off.

He could tell Sam was getting sick of his mood—and he couldn't blame the kid. Hell, he was getting sick of it himself _._ They hadn't had a case in two weeks, and during that time they were stuck with only each other for company. No one else's. They hadn't seen or spoken to any of their friends for far too long—Kevin, Charlie, Garth, Cas.

Dean scowled into the mirror, running his hands through his wet hair. That struck another nerve, just one more thing that was bothering him. Where the hell _was_  Cas, anyway? The angel had been MIA for days. Dean tried not to worry. He knew his angel could take care of himself, but—

That was odd. Cas wasn't  _his_ angel. He had no clue where that even came from.

He shook his head as if he could physically expel the thought, threw a t-shirt on, and left the bathroom. Sam was talking on the phone, hunched over the small table by the door. He had his thinking face on, brows furrowed and frown plastered on his face. He tucked his too-long hair behind his ears and glanced at Dean.

“Uh-huh. You think its demons?” he asked into the receiver.

Wondering who Sam was talking to, Dean cocked his head to the side curiously—a habit he annoyingly picked up from everyone’s favorite angel. He turned back toward the bathroom only to jump back in surprise. “Jesus Christ!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean’s choice of words. He had appeared only a foot away from Dean, as per usual. “Hello, Dean,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hey,uh...personal space, Cas,” Dean croaked, trying to regain his composure. He didn’t like being surprised by angels. He _didn't_  like it when he turned around to find a pair of large, stern, blue eyes boring into his own. He  _didn't_ like feeling the angelic heat radiating from his favorite trench coat.

"Sorry,” Cas apologized, taking a small step backward, still close enough for Dean to feel his warmth.

Sam nodded a hello at Cas before taking his phone with him into the hall.

"Where the _hell_  have you been?” Dean demanded angrily as the door closed behind his brother.

“I—“ Castiel stopped, his head tilting slightly, “I’ts only been four days since I last stopped by.”

“Oh,” Dean said, realizing Cas was right. He noticed Castiel staring at him intently.

“If you would like me to check in with you more often—“

“What? No, you’re good. It just felt like longer, I guess. You know, time goes slowly when you’re bored out of your fucking mind and all that.”

“The speed of time’s progression does not change, Dean,” Cas said evenly, looking at the hunter like he’d sprouted a second head.

“Obviously, dude. You know what I mean,” Dean said. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “On second thought, you probably don’t. Time _feels_  like it’s slower when you’re upset and it...flies when you’re having fun?’”

"You’re upset?” Cas asked, focusing on the part of Dean’s explanation that made sense to him.

“Yes. I mean no. I’m fine, Cas. It’s been a while since Sammy and I have landed a case, and we’re both just a little out of it.”

“If you’re bored, you can always help me with work in heaven,” Castiel offered.

Dean squinted at the angel. “What?”

Castiel’s lips twitched into a smile under Dean’s intense scrutiny, and Dean suddenly let out a loud laugh. “Cas, was that a _joke_?”

Cas was looking pleased with himself. “See, Dean? I am learning. I’m funny enough to be a Winchester now.”

Dean grinned. “Yeah, man. I’m impressed. You’re like the Dr. Phil of comedy,” he laughed, clapping Cas on the arm. The angel glowed under Dean’s "praise."

Castiel’s childishly proud expression snapped Dean out of his bad mood. He chuckled as he went to grab a beer from the fridge.

If there was one thing Dean could always count on to cheer him up, it was Castiel and his inability to grasp pop culture references. It had become a habit of Dean’s to drop as many references as possible during conversations with Cas. It was funny to him, seeing the all-powerful angel in a state of such utter confusion.

It started off innocently—Dean used a lot of references in his daily speech, and at first he would honestly forget that Cas had no idea what he was talking about. But then he purposely started making references—well aware Cas wouldn’t understand them—just to see the head tilt, narrowed eyes, and slight pout…

 

Sam came back in, relaxing when he saw the massive grin on Dean’s face. He’d felt bad leaving Cas alone with Dean when he was… _PMS-ing_ , but apparently Dean’s shower had done his mood a world of good.

“Hey, Cas. Dean. Get this—that was _Doug_  on the other line.”

"Doug?” Dean’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? I haven’t seen him since...I don’t even know. Way before you went to school.”

“Right? I don’t even know how he got our number.”

“Who is Doug?” Cas asked.

“He’s an old hunter friend of our dad’s,” Dean answered.

“Apparently, he’s been retired for a few years. But he, you know, always keeps an eye out for weird stuff. He has a job for us.”

“Thank God. Where is it?”

“Northern Wisconsin. It’s about a day’s drive from here, I think.”

“Awesome. We’ll head out bright and early tomorrow morning?” Dean asked, moving to pack his things.

Dean brushed closely past Castiel, not noticing how Castiel stopped breathing. Sam noticed. He’d been noticing a lot of things recently. Suspicions formed that he’d laughed off at first, but it was getting harder and harder to deny what he saw, as much as he _really_  wished he could deny it.

His brother was in love with an angel. It was weird. And messed up. But it was so crazy that it just might work—if the two idiots ever went for it. All they ever did was skirt around each other, looking but not touching.

“Huh,” he said, thinking out loud. He regretted saying anything when both Cas and Dean turned to him attentively.

“What?” Dean demanded.

“Uh, nothing,” Sam smiled, “I just figured out part of the crossword puzzle I was working on earlier.”

Dean made a face and returned to his packing, muttering something under his breath about his “geeky brother.”

“It's a shame you have to head back to heaven so soon, Cas," Sam sighed dramatically, "We miss spending time with you, man."

There it was. If he wasn't watching for it, he would've missed it. For a split second, Dean froze, every muscle in his body tense, his eyes flashing up to Cas. To his credit, he recovered quickly. Sam fought off a smirk.

"Well, maybe--maybe heaven can function without me for a couple of days, if you'd like assistance..." he hesitated, glancing over at Dean.

Sam watched for Dean's reaction as well. _  
_

Dean looked up to find them both staring at him. "You wanna tag along with us, Cas? Get away from those feathery douche bags for a while?"

"I think that's a great idea," Sam agreed. “Whatever this thing is we’re hunting, it’s really powerful—according to Doug, it’s taken out every hunter that goes after it—and since you’re already down here, do you maybe wanna tag along?"

Cas nodded, his lips pressing together in what was the Castiel-version of a smile. “I’d be happy to join you.”

 

In the morning, Cas looked on with his customary stoicism as the brothers packed their things into the Impala, his electric blue eyes boring into Dean’s—and less frequently, Sam’s – back.

“Cas, do you wanna do something useful?” Dean snapped.

“Of course, Dean. What would you like me to do?”

Dean blinked once in surprise, not expecting Castiel to comply. “Um…I don’t know. Go check us out of the motel or something.”

Cas hesitated, narrowing his eyes, torn between wanting to appease Dean and not knowing what it was Dean wanted him to do. “I don’t—“

"Don’t worry about it,” Sam came to Castiel’s rescue, shooting Dean what Castiel had come to consider as his ‘play nice’ look. “I’ll go check us out.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably after Sam left, leaning against the Impala. He looked Cas up and down. “So how are things in heaven, anyway?” he asked eventually.

“Things are fine,” Cas nodded.

“Great.” Another silence fell. "Don't you just love our little chats, Cas?"

Castiel got the sense that he was being sarcastic. A car pulled up to park beside the Impala and a man climbed out.

“Did you catch the game the other night?” Dean asked the man, nodding at his jersey.

 

Sam could hear them bickering before he even turned the corner. He rolled his eyes.

“But Dean, you can’t _catch_  a televised sports game, it’s an event, an abstract concept—“

"Yeah, I know that, Cas. It’s just what people say, okay? I know it doesn't make sense.”

“I will never understand humans,” Cas sighed as Sam came into view.

“Maybe. But you love us anyway,” Dean teased with a wink.

Castiel glanced at the human, rolling his eyes in a remarkably Dean-like gesture. “Yes. I suppose I do.”

Sam cleared his throat loudly.

“What's your problem?" Dean asked him. "We all set to go, Sammy?”

"Uh…yeah,” Sam said, looking from Dean to Cas and back again with a small smile.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

"You were giving me a look. Just—in the car. You too, Cas—get your winged ass in the back seat. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand,” Dean said. He threw up a hand to silence the angel before Cas could ask what he meant by that.

Sam smiled to himself as he slid into the Impala. There was a difference between the Dean that was a jerk because he had no other way of showing how fond he was of you and the Dean who was a jerk because he was genuinely in a bad mood and wanted to lash out. Sam had seen way too much of the latter recently. This Dean was definitely an improvement.

Sam looked into the rear view mirror, where he met Cas’ eyes. He gave Cas an encouraging smile, actually soliciting a smile in return.

Dean pulled onto the highway, leaving the small Illinois town behind.

He liked this. This was good—how things should be. Yeah, they still hunted monsters for a living—that was weird, and there was a freaking angel sitting in the back seat, but things were relatively normal. As normal as things could get. Sam loved days like these. He loved that the only things he had to plague his mind were Dean’s off-key humming along to the stereo and his brother’s overwhelming sexual tension with the angel in the backseat.

Which is undeniably what it was. As far as Sam knew, Dean didn't realize it yet and Cas sure as hell didn't get it. But Sam knew his brother better than anyone else—possibly including Dean himself—and he had seen that look in his brother’s eyes way too many times, almost always in situations that made Sam want to claw his eyes out afterward.

Now that he’d noticed it, it was all he _could_  notice and he had no freaking idea how he hadn't seen it sooner. Seriously. Their stolen glances were making _Sam_  feel sexually frustrated. He’d found himself internally screaming "JUST KISS ALREADY" whenever Cas and Dean were in the same _room_ as each other. Dean, however, was stubborn, and Castiel was oblivious.

Sam knew from the beginning what he would have to do. He knew they'd never get together on their own, and so it was his duty as the friend and younger brother—especially after everything Dean had done for him—to get Dean and Castiel to admit their feelings for each other, no matter how weird the situation was and no matter how much work it was bound to take on his end.

Dean turned down the song that was blaring through the Impala’s speakers—Ramble On. “So what’s the deal with this case?” he asked, his eyes fixed in the rearview mirror.

Sam twisted to glance over his shoulder. There was nothing interesting happening on the road that could have Dean so transfixed. In the back seat, Cas was looking out the window with a vaguely intrigued expression as cars flew past in the opposite direction.

"Dude. Do you _ever_  watch the road?” Sam asked, grinning from ear to ear. “I think we’re way more likely to die in a _car crash_  than at the hands of any monster or demon.”

“I’m a great driver,” Dean said, his gaze flying to the car in front of them when Cas looked away from the window.

“You do seem to get distracted a lot when you drive,” the angel agreed, leaning forward to join the conversation.

“Cas, you've never even driven. You don’t get to be a part of this argument.”

Cas huffed indignantly and Sam let out a loud laugh, which made even Dean smile. “What were you looking at anyway?”

Dean actually _blushed_  at the question. “Nothing. You never answered my question—the case. What’s going on? Why’d Doug call _us_?”

"Right. There’s been a string of really weird stuff happening up around a town called Eaton—“

“Weird how?”

“I was getting to that. Erratic weather, dead livestock. Men have been going missing for decades. The few that return come back completely insane.”

“That does sound like demons,” Cas said.

“Hold up,” Dean squinted at the road, “D _ecades_? Why are we just hearing about this now?”

"We’re not the first hunters Doug has sent after this thing, Dean. Apparently it’s been on Doug’s radar for years, but everyone he’s sent has either gone missing or crazy, just like the other vics.”

“Oh. Great. Thanks, Doug,” Dean grumbled.


	2. The Smell of Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will settles into their room, a cozy hotel room in a quaint tourist town in Northern Wisconsin, and Sam sets his plan into action.

As they passed into Eaton, the mid-sized tourist town Doug suggested they start with, Castiel extended a fraction of his grace, reaching out to search the town.

“I don’t feel any demonic presence here,” he said. He was rewarded with a pair of large, green eyes flicking up to the mirror to delve into his own. It was the first time Dean had looked his way the entire drive, a fact Castiel was keenly aware of.

"Your mojo isn't always spot-on though, right? I mean, demons have been able to hide from you before.”

“I suppose,” Cas admitted with a frown. A gloom settled over him—yet another confusing endocrinal reaction in the brain of his vessel. Castiel wasn't sure when he’d begun having such strong emotional reactions to things that, as an angel, shouldn't give him a moment’s pause. For millennia up in heaven, he didn't have to endure these crippling sensations humans call emotions. All those years he felt, but now he _felt_. Even after his time in Jimmy’s body, Castiel still wasn't accustomed to how one word or look could completely turn his mood around, make him feel powerful and profound things that he neither predicted nor understood.

As much as he tried to tell himself that emotions were nothing more than an involuntary chemical reaction in Jimmy’s brain, triggered by external factors perceived through Castiel’s eyes, it was undeniably _Castiel_ that was feeling these things. And he was hopelessly confused by them.  It started, he supposed, when he took this body…when he met Dean and Sam.

But why should he be upset about Dean’s question? Dean was only being practical, exploring all possibilities like a good hunter should do. And it _was_ true that demons have hidden their presence from Castiel in the past.

Castiel scowled out the window, narrowing his eyes. Five years was nothing to Castiel, a mere blink of an eye given how long he had lived. While he sometimes felt he had experienced more in the past five years than the rest of his life combined, this…sorting through emotions was still new to him. All he wanted was to understand where this sudden agitation was coming from…

Even though the apocalypse was over, Castiel still felt he needed to watch over Dean Winchester, _his_ Righteous Man. When Cas gripped Dean tight and raised him from perdition, he formed a profound bond with Dean, one that would never fade. At least, that’s how Cas saw it. And he didn't like having Dean think Castiel couldn't protect him. Castiel wanted to be able to protect Dean from everything.

Dean’s question…well, it brought to light some of the shortcomings of Castiel’s powers. It made Cas…he didn't want to say _angry_ , but…he wasn't sure what it was. If it was anger, it certainly wasn't _Dean_  he was angry at. If anything, he was angry at himself. For not being able to be Dean's everything.

“You okay back there, Cas?” Dean asked, looking back at the angel again.

And what was _that?_ That jump. The subtle, confusing flutter of his own—or Jimmy’s—heartbeat. He looked down at his chest, approximately where his heart was located beneath layers of bone, flesh, and clothing. Perhaps it was Jimmy’s love of red meat…He narrowed his eyes.

No. He would know if it was a physical ailment. A neurological response, then. Sometimes, when he was in a particularly dangerous situation, his heart would take to beating faster. Often, when these situations arose, Dean was by Castiel’s side. Perhaps this heart palpitation he experienced when Dean looked at him was the byproduct of a mental association—his mind associated Dean with dangerous situations, and his body reacted accordingly.

Castiel smiled to himself, pleased at his thorough grasp of human emotions.

They pulled up to the only hotel in town—a nicer place that they were used to. Rather than a dingy motel, this was one of those quaint, home-run touristy “inns.”

"Oh no,” Dean groaned as they got out of the car.

“What’s wrong?” Castiel asked.

“This is going to be one of those places where everyone is way too nice about everything,” he explained with a grimace. He looked like he was going to be sick.

“I think you’re right,” Sam looked up at the inn with a sour expression.

 

Dean _was_  right. The woman behind the front desk was an older woman, plump, matronly, and mu too cheery to be human. She greeted them with bright eyes, a huge smile, and a twitchy wave. If this case wasn't a demon thing, she was the first one Dean was going after.

“Welcome to the Fairy-tale inn!” she chirped, beaming at each of them in turn, “Are you checking in?”

“Uh….yes?” Dean said, because what the hell would they be doing here otherwise?

"Brilliant! My name is Macy Hornwater! I own the Fairy-tale Inn with my husband. Do you have a reservation?”

“No.”

“Oh, dear,” She frowned. Even when she frowned, though, something about her was still too smiley for Dean’s taste. “I’m afraid we only have two open rooms right now.”

"That’s fine. We only need one,” Sam interrupted.

“Oh. One room for all three of you?” she clarified, “I see. But you’re all so…large. You’re all going to sleep in the same bed?”

Dean blinked at her. He was _so_ done with this entire situation. Every. Single. Time. Whenever he went anywhere with one of them, people were always assuming he was either with Sam or with Cas. And this…What did she think _this_ was, anyway? Some creepy ménage a trois kind of deal? Geez, Wisconsinites are kinky bastards.

“We only have one bed in each of the rooms here,” she explained, mistaking Dean’s disdain for confusion. “Destination honeymoon spot and all that.”

“Ew, no. No thanks, sweetheart. We’ll take the two rooms.” Freaking bed-and-breakfasts. He had done a lot of messed-up things for the job, but he wasn't sharing a bed with Sam. And not just because Sam kicked violently in his sleep.

“Cas can sleep on the floor or something,” he nodded at Cas with a smirk and a wink.

“Actually, do you know what? I think I have something that might work for you boys!” she said with an obnoxious chortle, “You can have our suite—it might actually be bigger than you need, but no one’s using it right now, and well, that just seems like a darn shame. We were supposed to have a family staying there for the week, but they cancelled early this morning. Car troubles,” she prattled on.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Dean said. Anything to get her to stop talking. “We’ll take that.”

"How long are you planning on staying?” she asked cheerily as she ran Dean’s card.

“A week, tops,” Sam answered. “We’re just sort of passing through.”

“Ooh, a road trip? Touring the great Wisconsin wilderness, eh? That’s always buckets of fun. I know I speak for everyone here in Eaton when I say we do everything we can to make our tourists feel special and welcome,” she said with a flourish of her hands and a bright smile.

Dean groaned inwardly.

“There you go, Mr. Hanson. If you ever need anything during your stay, there’s usually someone at the desk here or wandering the halls. If not, my and my husband’s room is just at the end of that hall, there, and either of us would be happy to help you with whatever you need!”

“That is just _so_ thoughtful,” Dean forced a smile and false enthusiasm, trying to extricate himself from the conversation, “we will _definitely_ let you know if we need anything. For now, though, we’re, uh, just gonna go get settled in.”

"Have fun! Enjoy your stay! Oh, and if I don’t see you around, I highly recommend you check out the State forest before you leave. There are miles of hiking trails and oh, everything is so beautiful at this time of year. It’s only a block or so north of here.”

“Will do,” Dean promised, pulling Sam away. Little brother had perked up at the words _hiking trails._ Cas followed behind them.

“It’s her,” Dean said in an undertone when they were far enough away. “She’s the thing we’re hunting. Call it a hunter’s instinct.”

“I knew you were going to say that,” Sam snorted.

“It’s _always_ the creepy, happy ones, Sam!”

“That woman was human, Dean,” Cas said.

“You’re positive?” Dean sounded disappointed.

“Yes. She seemed strange to me at first, too, but she was absolutely and completely human,” Cas shook his head, eyebrows raised. “She is just a genuinely enthusiastic person.”

"See, Dean? What did I say?" Sam asked, pulling his best bitch face. Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, shit. Dude, I forgot my laptop in the Impala-- I'll meet you guys in the room."

 

The room was awesome. Dean _almost_  didn't regret spending the extra money—he and Sammy deserved to treat themselves every now and then, after all. Four private bedrooms branched off from the cozy living room area, complete with fireplace. There was even a freaking mini-kitchen.

Dean dropped his bag at the door and headed straight for the couch, collapsing onto it face first. It was long enough to fit all six feet of him. He let out a pleased sigh, snuggling into the cushion.

“This is nicer than your usual accommodations,” Castiel observed.

Twisting so he was laying on his back, he saw Cas standing uncomfortably in the doorway, watching him. “You can say that again. Jesus, Cas, relax. This is our home for the next week, which means it’s your home too. Settle in. Home, sweet home and all that…” he drifted off, closing his eyes.

He must have dozed off for a few minutes, because when he opened his eyes, Sam was in the room. “Dude. This couch alone is worth putting up with Mrs. Way-too-happy,” he said.

Sam snorted.

“I’m not even kidding, man. I’m excited. I can’t even remember the last time I've had my own bedroom when we've been out on a case. No offense, but you snore. Loudly.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“He hasn't even seen the fridge yet,” Cas smiled at Sam.

“Mmm,” Dean hummed from the couch. He cracked an eye open. “Are you seriously still lurking in the doorway?”

Sighing, Cas walked toward the couch Dean was stretched out on. Dean eyed him, eventually shifting his legs with a grumble to give Cas room. As soon as the angel was seated, Dean extended his legs again, resting his feet on the opposite end of the couch and trapping Cas underneath his legs. He was careful to touch the angel as little as possible. He wasn't comfortable with the rush of electricity that coursed through him whenever he and Cas touched.

Cas didn't move or protest, but he glared at Dean with an openly offended expression. Dean, eyes shut, didn't see the glare, but he could feel it. He smiled.

Across the room, Sam wanted to bang his head against the table. That scene was painful to watch. The entire drive, Sam had been wracking his brain for a way to get Cas and Dean to admit their undying devotion for each other.

He was supposed to be the smart one, but he had nothing. He came up with dozens of ideas, of course, but half of them Dean would see through in seconds. The other half were either too simple or too elaborate.

"I’m sorry, did you want me to give you two some privacy?” Sam snapped.

Dean shot up like a bullet, shifting as far from Cas as he could without falling off the couch. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, never mind. Forget I mentioned it. The Wi-Fi here is just making me want to shoot something.”

“Hey, just because you’re upset with your bad Wi-Fi connection doesn't mean you can take it out on us,” Dean said, rising to his feet.

“Whatever, man,” Sam shook his head.

Dean let out a surprised shout at the shelf of El Sol beer in the mini-fridge.

"Hey, the police database is taking forever to load, so I’m  going to head down to the lobby. Maybe see if I can ask Macy if she knows anything about the disappearances,” Sam continued.

“It kills me not to be going with you, Sammy, but somebody had better stay back here. You know, make sure Cas doesn't get in trouble," he graced Cas with a half-smile.

“Yes,” Cas jumped in, playing along. He didn't particularly like Macy Hornwater either. He also would say anything that might get another smile out of Dean. “It is possible that I may, in fact… _get into trouble_ if Dean and I don't stay here.”

Dean’s eyes widened a fraction as he turned to look at the angel. Taking a deep breath, he managed a nod in Sam’s direction, though his eyes never left Cas.

“Right.”

 

The lobby was empty when Sam got down there. So much for that plan. He sighed and wiped his hands absentmindedly on his jeans, looking around. Between Dean and Cas’ annoying behavior and loads of research to do with shotty Wi-Fi, this was going to be a long case.

He walked over to a small rack on the wall, packed with brightly colored tourist brochures. There wasn't really a lot going on in this town. Sam grabbed the pamphlet on the hiking trails for himself and the one on local eateries for Dean.

On his way back to the room, he ran into Macy. She was dusting off an old grandfather clock in the hallway, a cart full of cleaning supplies next to her.

“Hey. Slow day?” he asked, nodding at the already-clean clock she was dusting.

“Oh! You scared me!" Macy laughed, "Not slow, I just like cleaning a bit to wind down in the evenings. I know it’s a bit odd, but I enjoy it,” she smiled up at him, having to crane her neck to do so.

“I don’t think it’s odd,” Sam laughed. Macy wasn't so bad. “I can see where you’re coming from, actually.”

“You know, I feel just _awful—_ I didn't catch a single one of your names.”

“No worries. I’m Sam. The dark-haired one is Cas and the grumpy one is Dean.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sam. You just wandering, or…?”

"Actually, I was coming down here to ask about restaurants, but I found this,” he held up the brochure with a sheepish smile, “Which would you recommend we try first?”

Macy was more than happy to help, pointing out the pros and cons of the various restaurants.

“Alright...Which would you say has the best Wi-Fi connection?”

Macy smiled. “Really, Sam? You’re one of _those_ tourists? I hadn't pegged you for the type.”

“We've all got to work,” Sam shrugged.

“I can't argue with you there. If I were you, I’d try the Brooks’ Diner down on Main street.” Something in Macy’s cart caught Sam’s eye. He felt a massive, dopey grin spread across his face. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah. Absolutely. Um, I just…that air freshener…is it cinnamon?”

“Apple cinnamon. It's one of my favorite smells—it reminds me of warm pie and thanksgiving. That and the smell of fresh laundry are my top two favorite scents. You like it?”

“Wow. Yes,” Sam said, giving Macy a thoughtful smile. For once, it seemed like Sam and the Universe were working together on something. He never would have guessed a deliciously beautiful solution to his dead-end plan would come in the form of an aerosol can. Not too simple, not at all elaborate, and Dean would never see it coming. “Listen, I know this is a weird question, but do you mind if I borrow it? I can bring it back in two minutes.”

“Go ahead and take it. And don’t even worry about getting it back to me right away—just leave it at the front counter whenever you’re done with it.”

“Thank you so much,” Sam said. “Hey…do you mind if I ask you something? I don’t mean to pry, or to be rude or anything, but in the last town we stopped in, we heard a lot about how…how people were going missing in the area?”

Macy nodded. “It’s a real shame. I hate to say it, but a few boys have gone missing from the area in the past two or three months.”

“It’s always hard—not knowing what happened, I mean. Do the police have any idea what’s going on?”

“Their excuse is different for every poor gentlemen that goes missing. Usually they say animal attacks.”

“You don't think that's true?” Sam asked curiously, giving her his best puppy-face.

“Well, I’m good friends with Carol Baker—her older brother, Joshua, disappeared over twenty years ago. It was devastating, of course. And then he came back three months ago.”

“He came _back?_ What did he say happened to him?”

“Poor Joshua doesn't even know who he is anymore. They found him on the side of the road, completely out of his mind. He doesn't talk about what happened, doesn't recognize his own family. But that's not even the strangest part. The strangest part is—well, it sounds crazy, but everyone in town will back me up-- he hasn't aged a day, not since he disappeared. He should be fifty, but he still looks like a young man.”

“ _Really?_ So what’s he doing now?”

“He lives with Carol on the other edge of town. We all pitch in to take care of him around here,” Macy smiled sadly.

“That’s just a terrible situation,” Sam nodded. “I wish I could help in some way.”

“You’re a sweetheart,” Macy grinned.

“Uh, thanks, Macy,” he tilted his head to the side, “I should probably stop asking you depressing questions, huh? Dean and Cas will be wondering where I ran off to, anyway. Have a great night, and thanks again for letting me borrow the air freshener.”

 

Sam returned to their room, gripping the febreeze can tight. For once, Sam Winchester was about to do something really good. No way in hell was it making up for all the bad he’d done, but hey, it was a start. He was bringing two good, deserving people together, and that had to count for something.

Sam was selfish. He knew it. He was the typical youngest child, taught growing up that he was the most important being in all the universe. Not that John ever taught him that. No, dad was too obsessed with revenge and the job. But Sam was _always_ the most important thing in Dean’s life. Always.

Growing up, when Dean would take the blame for one of Sam’s mistakes, Sam let him—even when John would shout and swear at Dean until his face turned blue. When Dean would go without food for several days so Sam wouldn't be hungry, Sam pretended not to notice. He knew if he said anything, Dean would just argue, anyways. But it was mostly because Sam was selfish. He’d learned a lot of lessons and had done a lot of wrong in his past, but this is what he regretted the most—never giving anything back to Dean after everything his brother had done for him.

It was finally time to give back.

He took a deep breath and walked into the room. Dean was at the table, scowling at his laptop, and Cas was over by the couch, only partially paying attention to the TV.

“Hey, how’d it go with Mrs. Crazy?”

“She’s actually really nice, Dean,” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, I got that much.”

“Well, she didn't tell me much more than we already know. People have gone missing, the police don’t know what’s going on, when they come back, they’re insane. Although apparently, there’s this guy named Joshua in town that disappeared thirty years ago. He was discovered on the side of the road three months ago. Get this: Macy says he hasn't aged a day. He still looks like a twenty year old. When they found him, he was even wearing the same _clothes_ he disappeared in.”

“Huh. So you wanna go talk to him tomorrow?” Dean asked.

“I was thinking we could split up. One of us can go FBI, the other one can take Cas and go see Joshua. I was thinking maybe Cas can fix him, or at least squeegee something helpful out of his brain?”

"That works for me. What is that?” Castiel asked, nodding at the bottle in Sam's hand.

“Uh…febreeze? It makes rooms smell better,” Sam shrugged, “I noticed a weird smell in my room earlier, and Macy said I was free to borrow it, so…”

"Okay, Samantha,” Dean chuckled.

Sure, Dean. Go ahead and laugh. Because soon, Sam would have a lifetime of gay jokes for ammo.

And it's all because Dean Winchester has a cinnamon kink. Sam used to wish he didn't know about it, never thinking that it might someday come in handy. The thing is, Dean had a really weird thing about the smell of cinnamon—more specifically, people who smell like cinnamon. Dean probably didn't even realize it.

One time, they were at a diner. Their waitress—well, she wasn't _ugly_ , per say, but she seemed kind of…unhygienic. However, she smelled strongly of cinnamon, which made Dean think she was one of the hottest women he had ever laid eyes on. The sheer amount of eye-fucking that went on during that meal still made Sam shudder.

Lisa smelled faintly of cinnamon. It wasn't as obvious as it was with the waitress, but Sam suspected it was part of what drew Dean to her in the first place.

Point is, Dean had never been able to resist a woman that smelled like cinnamon. Sam was hoping that rule applied to male angels as well.

“I’m going to go unpack some of my stuff,” Sam said, excusing himself into his room.

He waited only a minute. He stood in the middle of the room, finger on the trigger of the spray bottle. “Hey Cas, can you come in here for a minute?” he called.

As he’d hoped, Castiel appeared in the room half a second later, a foot away from Sam's face. Feigning surprise, Sam jumped at Cas’ sudden appearance and pulled the trigger. The spray struck Cas right in the chest.

The angel’s reaction was almost comical. He froze, eyes wide, as the small droplets of liquid settled on his trench coat. He looked down at his coat and inhaled hesitantly.

“Oh God. Sorry, Cas! I was kind of expecting you to use the door, like a normal person…my bad,” Sam said, still laughing at Cas’ reaction, “But hey, at least you smell nice, for once.”

“For once?” Cas asked, narrowing his eyes and tilting his head to the side. “Are you implying that my natural scent is unpleasant?”

"Well, no…but I think this might be an improvement,” Sam joked, pretending to read the bottle, “now you smell like apple cinnamon. I know Dean loves the smell of cinnamon.”

Castiel’s head tilted even further to the side. It looked like he was working hard to formulate a sentence, and he finally settled on: “Why did you call me in here?”

“Um…you know what? I don’t even remember. I’m sure it’ll come to me,” Sam said, heading back out into the living room. Cas followed.

Now it was time for stage two: leave Dean alone to catch his prey's scent.

“Hey Dean,” he began, grabbing his laptop “I’m going to head to the diner down the street for a while, do some research. Macy said the Wi-Fi there is the best in town.”

“Uh…okay?” Dean said, confused by the speed with which Sam made his getaway. He practically ran out the door. “Did that seem strange to you?” Dean asked Cas, who was walking out of Sam’s room.

“I didn't see,” Cas said, pouting.

“What’s your problem?”

“Sam sprayed me with the febreeze.”

“Did you do something to deserve it?”” Dean laughed, closing the computer and turning completely to Cas, who was narrowing his eyes at Dean.

“No. I startled him.”

“That’ll do it. But hey, at least you probably smell good now,” Dean stood up and stretched.

"Sam said the same thing. Do I not smell good normally?”

"You smell incredible normally.”

Dean cringed. Where the hell did _that_ come from? Real smooth, Winchester. Cas cocked his head to the side, expression vaguely amused. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he found himself approaching Cas, stopping when they were about a foot apart. Cas watched curiously as Dean took a deep breath.

His brain shut down. Dean suddenly found himself unable think of anything but _that smell..._ It was cinnamon mingled deliciously with _pure Castiel_. Cas’ natural, clean scent mixed with the heavy, sensual smell of cinnamon, it was…seriously sexy. It was a promise of everything Dean never even knew he wanted, and it smelled like _home._ He leaned forward, his face mere inches away from Castiel's, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Holy shit, dude,” he groaned, taking another whiff.

“Dean?” Cas’ voice came out even rougher than usual, and Dean felt a familiar feeling twist his gut. A feeling he should _not_ be having. His eyes snapped open, shocked at how close he and Cas were, but unable to pull away. Castiel’s eyes were wide and dark, his lips parted in surprise. He looked like a deer trapped in a car’s headlights, shock and confusion rooting him to the spot.

And damned if it wasn't the hottest thing Dean had ever seen.

“Cas…”

Castiel's eyes lowered to Dean's lips, inciting another round of that intense desire. Dean reached a hand up, gripping Castiel’s arm to keep himself grounded. He looked with wide eyes at the hand that clung tightly to the trench coat, the reality of what was happening hitting him like a semi. He tried half-heartedly to shove Cas away, but Cas didn't budge. Instead, the angel reached up and placed a palm on Dean’s chest, right above Dean’s heart. A soft moan escaped Dean's lips as he leaned into the touch.

Cas stared at his hand, as if he could see through Dean’s chest to the frantically beating heart within it.

Shit. Maybe he could.

“Your heart does it too,” was all Cas said, still staring intently at Dean’s chest.

“Does what? Cas?” Dean blushed at how breathy his voice sounded. Castiel’s electric blue eyes snapped up to Dean’s and the angel moved—if possible—closer still, so that Dean could feel the angel's breath on his jaw.

Dean’s thoughts were nothing more than a rush of confusing emotions and desires at this point-- forming a coherent thought was completely out of the question. Want. Need. Now.  _Cas._ Wrong. Impossible.

“You aren't in any danger,” Cas promised eyes taking in every detail of Dean’s face.

“Good to know, Cas,” Dean said brusquely, trying to think beyond the haze cinnamon-laced Castiel put his mind in.

Cas nodded slowly, his fingers brushing lightly down Dean’s torso as he let his hand drop. Dean fought off a shudder and closed his eyes at the feathery touch. He needed more than that-- more than he could get.

Dean shoved Cas away, gasping at the sudden fresh air and trying to ignore how much tighter his jeans suddenly felt. Cas, thankfully, didn't notice—he was giving Dean his large, confused eyes, clearly trying to decide whether or not he should be offended.

And it was just too damn _adorable._

"Sorry, I...” Dean passed hand over his face. _Breathe, Winchester._ His eyes roved over Cas, taking in the trench coat, the slightly askew tie, the messy scruff of black hair, “I was just…” He was backing up as he spoke, and he nearly tripped over the table. “”Yeah. I’m, uh, gonna go take a shower.”


	3. Mae Govannen, Bitches.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Free Will figures out what they're dealing with; Sam and Castiel have a heart-to-heart; Sam calls in some serious backup.

Dean repeated it over and over to himself during his shower.

He was _not_ going to let himself jerk off. He was _definitely_ not going to let himself jerk off while thinking about his angel. He was _absolutely_ not going to let himself jerk off while thinking about his angel _while said angel was sitting in the other room._ This whole evening was something he was going to take and bury underneath a mountain of repression. After everything he’d been through, he was good at repressing emotions, right? It should be easy.

He lathered shampoo in his hair, thinking about how nice the water pressure was here compared to the showers in their usual crap-ass motels. It might've even been better than the showers in the bunker...

How the hell had he lost control like that?

Dammit. The key to repression was _not thinking about the memory you're trying to repress._ So he needed to _stop thinking about it._ Or, maybe, this was better. Dean’s way of dealing with unpleasant experiences never seemed to work out, so maybe he should try taking a page from Sammy’s book for once. You know, think through what he was feeling. The sooner he figured out what he was dealing with, the sooner he could put this whole messy deal behind him.

Dean conjured up the image of his favorite porn star. She was _hot._ Dean was totally attracted to her. He liked women—their curves, their soft skin, their gentle voices. Of course, he’d be lying if he said he’d never been attracted to a guy—but never like, ‘I want to do the horizontal tango with you’ kind of attraction.

Not that his thing with Cas was like that. But hypothetically, if that situation presented itself...But whatever attraction he shared with Cas was way more intimate than just the physical…oh, _hell._ Did he just think that? No. Stop. There shouldn’t be _any_ attraction of _any_ kind with Cas. _It’s Cas._

Dean sighed. At this point, it was getting impossible for him to deny that the attraction was there. Especially after his, uh… _reaction_ earlier. There was the entire nature of their relationship…it was different than Dean and Sammy’s, obviously, but it was arguably just as strong. It was certainly just as co-dependent. And way more intense.

Dammit. Dean was possibly in love with a freaking angel of the Lord.

That was his only objection to the whole thing, really. He didn't mind that Cas was a dude. It was friggin’ weird, don't get him wrong, but it was something Dean could get used to.

But Castiel was an angel. He thought, felt, and acted differently than humans. Obviously, Cas cared about both Winchesters, but was he even capable of… _caring_ for someone in a romantic sense? Both the physical and emotional connection—could that ever be something Castiel wanted? Was he capable of _wanting_ someone in the way that Dean desperately wanted him? Dean didn’t think so.

And that was only part of the problem. Wasn't God totally against guy-on-guy action? There’s no way—assuming he _could_ feel—that Cas would ever go for Dean. It probably hadn't even crossed Cas’ mind what was so messed up about the way they had just done whatever the hell it was they just did. The dude just didn't understand the concept of personal space. To him, that was nothing. His innocent, angelic mind didn't work that way.

 

Castiel’s mind was in turmoil. It had been since Dean pushed him away. Up to that moment, everything was incredible. Perfect, even. Castiel couldn't even describe the emotions and thoughts he experienced when Dean had taken that first step towards him…

But something went wrong. Cas had done something to make Dean upset. He didn't know what it was, but if the way Dean had shoved Cas away before locking himself in the bathroom was any indication, it was something bad. Castiel was at a loss.

This time, _he_ wasn't the one to invade _Dean’s_ space. _Dean_ was the one that approached him, _Dean_ put a hand on his arm, _Dean_ leaned in and closed his eyes. But then Dean pulled away.

Why? To Cas, their closeness had been a pleasant experience. More than pleasant. And Dean seemed to enjoy it, too…Castiel remembered the sound Dean made when Cas put a hand on his chest. The memory triggered an extreme and completely alien reaction in Castiel’s body—the palms of his hands started sweating, his stomach started flipping over on itself, and of course, there was the increased rush of pheromones…and that was just a small echo compared to what he felt in the actual moment.

It was a sound of pleasure Dean had made. Or so Castiel thought. So why had he pulled away? Why had those green eyes held so much fear?

Cas didn't like seeing Dean upset. When the hunter was out of the shower, perhaps he would ask Dean what he did wrong so he could refrain from doing it in the future.

The water shut off. Cas sat up straighter, eyes widening. He expected Dean to take longer in the shower, to give him more time to think. He wasn't composed enough to interact with the hunter yet.

He decided to _act natural_ , as Dean would say. He turned on the television and settled down on the couch, adopting what he hoped was a casual position. He tried to focus on the program, but he was really listening for the sound of the bathroom door.

“Really, Cas? America’s Next Top Model?” the rough voice eventually came from behind him.

“I don’t understand the premise of this show, Dean,” Castiel said, tilting his head to the side. He didn't let his eyes wander from the screen, despite how much he wanted to look at Dean, to see his wet hair, or the way his t-shirt probably clung to his well-muscled frame. He squinted at the TV.

“I don’t think you want to, man.” When Cas heard Dean shuffling around in the kitchen, he finally let himself turn to look at his hunter. Dean was staring into the stocked fridge, his demeanor relaxed and completely at ease.

Dean collapsed on the opposite end of the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. “So you waiting to see who gets voted off, or do you mind if I turn on something good?”

“By all means,” Cas handed Dean the remote. “Dean, I—“

“It was nothing; we don’t need to talk about it, okay?”

Cas nodded, turning back to the television. It made things easier, to be sure, but Cas found he was disappointed. If only he understood why.

They watched a movie Dean picked out in companionable silence. It was an action/science fiction film—one of Dean’s favorites, he said. _The Avengers_. Occasionally, Cas would ask about something he didn't understand and Dean would be only too happy to explain.

"I actually quite enjoyed that,” Cas said to Dean when it was over, sounding surprised. He hadn't even intended to say it out loud, but it was worth it, seeing the way Dean’s entire face lit up.

“I’m glad.”

  
Not much later, Sam returned. He made sure to fumble with the lock a bit, to give Dean and Cas some time, _just in case_. Imagine his disappointment when he opened the door to find them sitting and watching TV, as far apart as the couch would allow. He sighed. He shouldn't have expected it to be so easy. Five years of restrained sexual urges wouldn't be forgotten so easily.

“Hey, Sam. Get anything good?” Dean asked, eyeing his brother from across the room.

Sam gave him an innocent look, his eyebrows drawing together. After a minute, he cracked, smiling as he held up the greasy bag. “Homemade apple.”

“'Atta boy, Sammy,” Dean grinned, jumping off the couch to rip the bag from Sam’s hand. “I was actually referring to the research, but this is better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sat in the armchair next to Cas, pulling out his laptop. He opened the Word document he created in the diner. “Doug sent me all the info he’s gathered on the thing, and I did a bunch of my own research. I don’t think it’s a demon. According to Doug’s research, it’s on a sort of cycle, migrating through northern forested areas—it was here, in Eaton, thirty years ago. That’s when Joshua went missing, and that’s why Doug suggested we start here. The disappearances gradually started up again here about a year ago.

"Don’t get me wrong, this thing causes havoc wherever it goes. It’s not demonic havoc, though. I mean, livestock sometimes dies, and people randomly fall ill, and obviously, a couple people go missing every few years—mostly men, by the way—but there’s never any violence. Other weird stuff happens, too—take this, for example: every place this thing passes through has the highest crop yields of anywhere else in the _country—_ healthier forests, nicer weather, the works. I've never known a demon to _improve_ nature.”

"And Cas said he didn't sense any demons,” Dean added thoughtfully.

“If it’s not demons, then what do you think it is?” Cas asked.

Sam rubbed his eyes. “Something that causes general mischief, occasionally abducts people…”

“Please tell me this isn't a Just Desserts thing,” Dean groaned.

“I don’t think so. And that wouldn't explain the crop thing. A pagan god, maybe? Of nature or fertility or something?”

“Maybe. So what’s our plan for tomorrow?”

"I was thinking you and Cas could go talk to Joshua—see what you can get from that, and I was going to go FBI and speak to Karen Alcott—her seventeen year old son Matt went missing last week.”

“No, Sammy—it’s your turn to watch the baby. I’m going FBI. _You_ can go play Nurse Ratched with Cas.”

“But—“ Sam looked from Dean to Cas, trying to think of a valid argument.

 

The next morning, Sam and Cas pulled up to Carol Baker’s house. Their plan was terrible. Sam wasn't looking forward to it.

“Be nice—we have to be sympathetic. Stop glaring—that’s crabby, not sympathetic.”

Castiel let out a long suffering sigh, “Sam, you do realize there’s an easier way to do this.”

“Hey, man, if you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

Castiel disappeared. Sam swore and got out of the Impala, looking around for the trench-coat wearing angel.

A second later, Castiel opened the front door, a bored expression on his face.

“Really?” Sam asked, stomping up the front steps.

“I think you and Dean tend to forget that I _am_ an incredibly powerful angel of the Lord. This is a simple solution—no one gets hurt, we get to speak privately with Joshua for as long as we need, and there is no deception involved.”

Sam shrugged, stepping into the house. He couldn’t really argue with Cas’ logic. He froze, eyes wide, when he saw the middle aged woman passed out on the couch.

"She’s asleep. Dreaming pleasantly, in fact,” Cas tilted his head, watching her with a sad smile. “ She dreams of her brother. Joshua is upstairs.”

 

“Uh, Joshua?” Sam asked, pushing open the bedroom door Cas indicated. He walked in, Cas right on his heels. Joshua was seated at the window, his back to the door. He didn't turn when they came in.

When they moved closer, Joshua finally tore his eyes from the window to look at Sam. Sam was shocked by what he saw in the young man’s face—he expected a hollow shell of a man, somebody who had been through hell and back (but not literally). What he saw in Joshua’s eyes was _life_ —infused with awe, wonder, and happiness. He had a wild look about him—hair that flew out in every direction, eyes from another world. Joshua beamed up at them.

“Hello,” he said, his voice soft and gentle, “Beautiful day.”

“Yes, it is,” Castiel agreed.

“Joshua, we’re here to ask you…about where you've been. If you remember anything,” Sam said, speaking slowly and clearly.

Joshua looked back out the window, losing interest. “Beautiful day,” he repeated, sighing happily.

“It was worth a try,” Sam shrugged, “Cas. Wait—your digging around in his brain isn't going to hurt him, is it?”

“No, it shouldn't,” Cas said, taking a step forward and touching two fingers to Joshua’s forehead. Castiel’s face went blank for an unnerving amount of time.

“Uh…Cas?”

Breaking his contact with Joshua’s forehead, Cas snapped out of his daze. He looked up at Sam, an uncharacteristic grin spreading across his face.

“Cas? You okay, man?”

“I’m fine. Joshua’s mind is…inexplicable. He's living in a memory. A memory of a dream... He dances in meadows and listens to music woven throughout the centuries. He’s very happy. It didn't even know such bliss was possible…” Cas shook his head.

“That’s great, I guess….do you know what did this to him?”

“Yes.”

“Okay…do you wanna tell me what it is?”

“Elves,” Cas said.

"Elves?” Sam couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him. He couldn't stop it, either. Cas waited patiently for Sam to regain his composure. Joshua just kept looking out the window.

“Seriously, man? Elves?” Sam managed to choke out, “Wait, are we talking Lord of the Rings or Santa’s little workers?”

"I don’t understand either of those references, Sam. Elves are very powerful magical creatures, and they’re not little. They’re _certainly_ not something to laugh about.”

“No, I got that. Sorry,” Sam tried to keep the smile off his face. “I didn't even know elves existed. Dean is going to have a field day with this one."

"Hey, Cas...do we have to leave him like this? Can you heal him or something?"

"In theory...he can never return to the way he was before, though. I can wipe the past thirty years from his memory, bring him back to reality, but after the things he's experienced...he spent decades completely entangled with powerful magic even I don't understand. He'll come back to reality knowing he's forgotten something important, but he won't be able to remember what it is, and he'll carry it with him for the rest of his life. If I heal him, he'll never be this happy again. Isn't it better to leave him?"

"I guess you're right," Sam admitted, eyes sad. Would he choose happiness? Would he choose to forget everything for the sake of happiness. Sam thought of Joshua's sister, downstairs. "Come on, we have a couple of hours before we have to meet Dean for lunch. Don’t forget to wake Mrs. Baker up.”

Joshua didn't even notice their exit.

 

They pulled up to the hotel, but Sam didn't get out of the car right away. Cas could practically see the wheels turning in the hunter’s mind, could see him chewing his words before he spoke them. “So,” he finally said.

“So.”

“We've got an hour or two before he said we’d meet Dean…I was thinking we could talk.”

“You want to talk with me?” Cas began, looking concerned, “Is there something wrong with Dean?”

"What? Does there have to be something wrong with Dean for me to want to talk to you?”

“I suppose not. But what do you want to talk about, then?”

“I don’t know, man. _Things._ Just casual stuff: how you’re doing, how you’re feeling. Or if there’s something on your mind you want to get off your shoulders, I’m here to listen, you know. Why are you smiling?”

Castiel was giving Sam a warm, fond smile. “Dean has often complained to me about your ‘chick flick moments,’ as he calls them. I never thought that you would…that I would ever be on the receiving end of those talks.”

“Well, you’re getting the full Winchester treatment, now,” Sam smiled. “So like it or not, you’re going to sit here and talk.”

“You always surprise me, Sam. How you stay such a good man, despite everything you've been through. It's impressive how you take on everyone else’s emotional well-beings as well as your own,” Cas observed. “I can’t even understand my own emotions.”

“Well, I kind of have to...take on everyone's emotions," Sam smiled, "You both need me to sort through your problems for you. Dean’s thick-headed and you’re oblivious. Without me, you two would be lost.”

Cas nodded, smiling. “That's probably true. Dean says that when you start these talks, it’s because something’s bothering you.”

“Is there anything he doesn't tell you?” Sam asked, his voice dripping with sass.

“No,” Cas said simply. “So what is your end game with this, Sam?”

“Okay, you of all people know how skewed Dean’s perception of the world can be. He's just suspicious of me because he hates talking about his feelings.”

“So there’s nothing in particular you wanted to talk about?” Cas pushed.

“Well...not exactly. I just feel like you and I never get to talk. Look, we’ll obviously never have the ‘profound bond’ that you and Dean have, and that’s fine— that’s not what I want, but—”

“What _do_ you want?” Cas asked, feeling it was expected of him.

“I want you and Dean to be happy,” he blurted. Cas turned to look at him. “And I want you to be able to talk about him with me, if you need to. What you two have is special, even if you don’t realize it. And I just want to know what’s up.”

“With me and Dean?”

"Yes,” Sam breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been about as subtle as a brick wall just there. If it were Dean he was talking to, he would've been cussed out the second he opened his mouth. Dean would have seen through him instantly, but Castiel’s expression gave no indication he understood what Sam was implying.

“Dean and I are good. We haven’t been arguing much, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No, that’s not what I—“ Sam began, wallowing in the awkwardness of the situation. “That’s not what I meant. What I’m wondering is,” – maybe he should just go ahead and say it—“do you think you and Dean could ever be more than friends?”

"I believe we already are, aren't we? We’re family, right?” Cas looked uncertainly at Sam.

Sam groaned, slamming his head down on the steering wheel. Did he need to have the Birds and Bees talk with an angel?

“You mean romantically.”

“Yes!” Sam sat up, “That’s what I mean. Do you think you and Dean could ever be together… _like that_?"

Cas didn't even have to think about it. “No.”

“ _Seriously?!_ Just like that? You’re not even going to _pretend_ to think about—“

Cas raised his voice to talk over Sam’s protests. “I don’t think Dean and I could ever be more than friends, Sam, but I'm basing that answer off what _Dean_ believes and feels, not off of any feelings I may possess.”

“Wait. So you…so are you saying you _do_ care about him?” Sam clarified, a smile spreading across his face.

“I’m not _saying_ anything,” Cas shifted uncomfortably, focused on the hands folded in his lap like they were the most fascinating things in all the Universe.

“Right. But theoretically, if Dean was totally willing…”

Cas didn't answer.

“Oh my God,” Sam grinned. “Look, Cas, you're worrying too much. I don’t think you really have a clue how Dean feels. He’ll come around. I just have to talk to him—“

Cas looked up at Sam then, eyes wide. “Don’t tell him what I just said.”

“Why not? Cas, if it means you and Dean can finally—“ Sam was cut off when the angel grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him closer, so their faces were only inches apart.

"Cas! What the hell!”

“Do. Not. Tell. Dean.” Cas growled. “About any of this. _Please_.” Castiel's voice cracked slightly on the last word.

“Okay! Okay, I won't,” Sam snapped, trying to extricate his shirt from Castiel’s grasp.

“Promise me.”

"Jesus, Cas! Promise.”

Castiel vanished, the loss of his grip sending Sam flying back. Sam rubbed at his neck, where the fabric of his shirt had cut into his skin, and scowled at the seat Cas had occupied only moments before. Damn angels.

“Now what?” he asked out loud to the empty car. Cas clearly didn't want his help, and he was pretty sure—without even having to ask— that Dean didn't either. Fine. If those idiots wanted to spend the rest of their lives miserable, then so be it.

Sam had more important things to worry about, anyways. Like the case.

 

He knew absolutely nothing about elves, and he didn't know anyone who’d crossed paths with them, but Sam figured calling all of their usual contacts was a start.

Like himself, none of them even knew elves existed— with the exception of Garth, of course, who said he “knew a guy who knew a guy who ran into a couple elves a while back—but, wait, it might have been fairies. Or gnomes.” He wasn't sure. He promised he’d call the guy and get back to Sam pronto.

The simple solution would be to talk to Cas, but the angel had been missing for an hour—ever since his little bitch fit. Sam started working through the case without Cas, seeing as he had no idea when the angel would return. If he would return. Shit. Dean would be _so pissed_ if Sam showed up for lunch without the angel in tow.

After praying to Cas for ten minutes straight without a whisper, Sam was fed up. He was fed up with Cas for being a pissy, emotionally unstable teenage girl. He was fed up with Dean for having the emotional capacity of a baboon. He was fed up with himself for his lame ass plans. Finally, he was fed up with the elves for: A. existing in the first place, and B. making this entire mess possible.

Dean was going to get a kick out of the whole elf thing, of course. The rest of the case was going to be a never ending stream of Lord of the Rings jokes. Despite himself, Sam chuckled. Charlie would _kill_ to be with them now. He had to tell her about it. Besides, talking to Charlie always made him feel better. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed her number, feeling the need to talk to someone that _wouldn't_ make him want to shoot himself after five minutes.

“Helloooo?”

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Winchester, you have some _serious_ explaining to do. Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you've made your last report?? I've been _freaking. Out._ You could have been dead, for all I knew!”

"Sorry,” Sam flinched.

“Oh, you know I can’t stay mad at you. I can practically feel your wounded puppy-dog look seeping through the phone as we speak. Besides, I knew you weren't dead. You’re the Winchesters-- you guys are way too bamf to die. So what do you need?”

“What do you mean?”

"Oh come on, Sammy, this isn't just a social call. I’m the resident techie, right? I’m like the Topher Brink of our little hunting gang. You know, the quirky, under appreciated technological genius.”

“I’m not calling you for technology help, Charlie. This is a social call, I guess.”

“Really? Are you possessed or sick or something? Oh no, lemme guess: Dean troubles, am I right? You need to talk to someone, but you obviously can’t talk to Dean about it…”

“Dean and I are fine. We’re working a weird case, and it reminded me of you. That’s all.”

“Oh, that’s cool too, I guess. What are you hunting?”

“Hang on a sec, Charlie. I just had a thought. Can I ask you something? You’re really big into, uh, fangirl stuff, right? So, when there are two characters that clearly belong together—“

"Are you talking about shipping?"

"I don't know what that is."

"It's when you really want two characters to get with each other sexually. And romantically," Charlie explained. "Like how the Supernatural fanverse ships you and Dean."

"Gross. But yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about. So when you're  _shipping_ two characters that you're convinced are madly in love--"

“Sherlock and John.”

“Charlie,“ Sam laughed.

“Sorry. Continue.”

“Okay, say that you ship  _Sherlock and John_ , and you're going crazy because it’s so obvious that they’re completely in love and that they belong together, but they’re both shitheads and they don’t seem like they have the balls to get together anytime soon, and say, in that situation, you have a chance to do something—to try to get them together. What...How would you go about doing that, exactly?”

“Wow. Okay. I could seriously go on for hours—I’ve read _so many_ Johnlock fanfics it’s insane. I’d try the basics at first—make them jealous, lock them in a room together. Anything to make them get their gay sex on, am I right?”

“Oh,  _sick,"_ Sam groaned, trying not to picture Dean and Cas doing... _that._ He hadn't really thought about that part. " _Please_ don’t say that, Charlie.”

“Whatevs. So, who is it you’re trying to set Dean up with?”

“Dean? No one. This was a hypothetical problem,” Sam lied, smiling.

“Sure, Sammy. I recommend checking out some fanfics—fans come up with better ideas than actual writers, sometimes. But a lot of times it really depends on the chemistry, and, you know, the people you're trying to set up. So unless you want to tell me...."

Sam kept silent.

"Message received. So whatcha huntin?”

“You might want to sit down for this, Charlie. We’re hunting  _elves._ ” Sam grinned. “Uh…Charlie? You still there?”

"SAMUEL WINCHESTER, ARE YOU FOR REALSIES RIGHT NOW? Let me help! I want to help! Sam, I _need_  to help! Of all the fictional creatures in every book, movie, show, and video game ever created, elves are my _favorites._ Tell me where you are— I can be there in hours. After all, I’m a hunter in training, right? Oh, and I’m fluent in elvish.”

“Out of the question, Charlie,” Sam began, “this is a really dangerous hunt.”

“Okay, fine,” Charlie said, letting the subject drop far too easily for Sam’s taste. He narrowed his eyes.

"Really? Just like that? ‘Okay’?”

“Okay. _If_  you promise to call me every time something exciting happens. And you have to explain _everything_ that happens. _Everything._ And when you see the elves, you have to send me a pic or else be able to describe them with _incredible_ detail.”

"Deal,” Sam agreed, still suspicious, “Oh, crap. I have to go—I’m supposed to meet Dean for lunch soon. I promise to call you whenever anything even remotely exciting happens.”

               

As Sam approached the diner, he wracked his brain for a way to explain Castiel’s absence to Dean. There was an emergency in heaven, maybe?

He was spared the trouble of lying when the trench-coat wearing dick appeared by his side.

“Cas, are you _kidding me—“_

“Don't yell at me. Dean is watching us from the window.”

Sam scowled at Cas, saying nothing.

"Hey,” Dean greeted as they approached his booth, “I hope your morning was more productive than mine.”

Sam slid into the bench across from Dean, taking up as much room as he could so Cas would be forced to sit next to Dean. Cas glared at Sam’s long limbs. Sam had to admit the angel's discomfort gave him some amusement.

“Mrs. Alcott was a dead end, then?” Sam asked, watching as Dean and Cas instinctively leaned closer to each other. He repressed an annoyed sigh.

Dean groaned dramatically. “All morning, I just had to sit there awkwardly while this woman _sobbed her eyes out_ , showing me her son’s baby pictures, his report cards, his sports’ metals. The _only_ useful info I got out of her was the fact that her son went missing during his morning jog—over on the trails-- on an _unusually_  misty morning.”

"That makes sense,” Cas nodded at Sam.

"It does? Am I missing something here?” Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. Big time. Cas, would you like to tell Dean what you learned from Joshua's mind?” Sam smirked.

"Joseph spent the last thirty years dancing with elves," Cas said with his usual seriousness.

Dean’s face remained blink. He blinked at Cas, opened his mouth only to close it again. “Elves?” he finally asked skeptically.

“Yes.”

Dean shrugged. “I guess we've seen weirder. So what are they, exactly-- Christmas or Tolkien?"

"That's what I asked," Sam laughed.

"And how do we gank them?”

“I don't know if it will be as easy as killing them. It seems to me they're entering our world at certain times, bringing men back to their world with them." His head tilted to the right, "There may be a way to keep them from entering this plane at all, but we'll have to learn more about them before I can say for sure."

"That's really helpful, Cas," Dean smirked.

"It's not like it's my job to know about _elves,_ Dean. I'm fairly certain that's your job." Cas snapped.

"Wow. Okay. You two are just buckets of sunshine today, aren't you? I'm glad to see you had a nice morning of Sammy-Cas bonding time, but you're totally killing my buzz, so I'd appreciate it if you both got over whatever the hell it is you're pissed about so I can enjoy my pie in peace."              

 

“If I have to read one more freaking article on the difference between the Mirkwood and Rivendell elves, I swear to God...” Dean growled, pushing his laptop away with disgust. "And all of my search results are either about Will Ferrell or Orlando Bloom."

"That is another Lord of the Rings reference?" Castiel asked.

Before Dean would let any of them proceed with the case, Dean had made certain that Cas at least had a working understanding of what the Lord of the Rings trilogy was. Sam was crabby and Cas was uneasy about something, but Dean didn't really care. For all his complaining about the research, he was getting more and more excited about this case with every passing minute. 

Not even gigantor and blue eyes could bring him down, even though they seemed to be trying their hardest. 

A knock sounded at their door. Dean glanced at Sam, but he saw his own confusion reflected in his baby brother's features. Dean rose and opened the door to a pleasant surprise-- one of the only things that could make this whole elf business better.

"Mae govannen, bitches," Charlie said, pushing her way inside.


	4. Code Name: Operation Dean and Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean, and Cas catch Charlie up on what's been going on, and the gang hatches a plan to get rid of the elves-- but it's not going to be easy. 
> 
> Charlie and Sam come up with their own, side plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so long, guys! I was trying to find a good place to cut it off, but I kept having to go just a little bit further...hope you enjoy, and again, feedback is appreciated!

“Dude. You called _Charlie_?” Dean asked as Charlie swept past him into the room. Fortunately, he didn't sound angry, which was good because Sam looked like he was trying to blow her head up with his mind. It was nice to know the other Winchester had her back.

“Hey, Dean. Long time, no see,” she flashed Dean the sweetest smile she could manage, relieved when he smiled back.

“Yeah, Dean, I called her, but you know what’s funny? I pretty specifically remember saying ‘no, Charlie, you _can’t_ come. This case is too dangerous.’”

“Oh, is _that_ what you said? I kind of stopped listening the second you mentioned elves. Silly me,” she shrugged.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You can't cute your way out of this. Go back home, Charlie, you shouldn't be here.”

“Why not?” Charlie and Dean asked at the same time.

“Uh, because it’s _dangerous?”_ Sam said, like it was obvious.

“So? Charlie’s fought dangerous things before. Hell, she’s part of the reason we were able to take out Dick.”

“ _And_ I’m an honorary hunter in training, remember?”

"Look, I’m just trying to be reasonable—“

“Besides, Sam,” Charlie began, resorting to blackmail and hating herself for it (she just _really_ wanted to see an elf, okay?), “there was that important thing you called me about earlier…”

… _that I could mention right in front of Dean to make your life a thousand times harder_. She tried looking assertive and threatening to get her message across. She was a terrible person.

“What’s she talking about?” Dean asked Sam.

“Nothing,” Sam said, unable to think of a believable lie quickly enough.

“Right. Yeah, we’re totally just gonna pretend none of that just happened,” Dean said, shooting an exasperated look over Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie turned, nearly having a heart attack when she noticed the man in the kitchen.

“Oh, hey. Didn't see you there,” Charlie said to him, “Nice trench coat. I’m Charlie.”

She offered him her hand. After studying her curiously and _way_ too intensely for Charlie’s taste (she was more of a sit in the corner and go unnoticed kind of girl), he shook it. “I’m Castiel.”

“Oh! _You’re_ Cas! I totally just shook hands with an angel! Oh my God! Wait, was that offensive, because I am _so_ sorry—“

"It's fine,” Castiel nodded with a small smile, “that’s nothing compared to some of the things Dean says in my presence.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean growled.

She wasn't really sure what she expected Castiel to look like, but this definitely wasn't it. She was ashamed to say it, but part of her kind of pictured him as the classic Michelangelo-style golden haired cherub, even though that was seriously inaccurate. Castiel's look worked, though. He looked sort of normal at first, but when you looked closer, you could see something stronger behind his eyes: a maelstrom pretending to be a man. It was pretty epic.

“Dean has told me all about you, Cas. I mean, all good things of course. He talks about you a lot, actually, and— _oh._ ”

Something clicked in Charlie’s mind. She turned to Sam, eyes wide, remembering their earlier conversation. Sam’s eyebrows shot up, shaking his head a fraction of an inch.

“What?” Dean asked, looking fed up with Sam and Charlie.

“Sorry. I thought I left my stove on, but now I distinctly remember turning it off. Boy this is tense,” Charlie tried to change the subject, “I hope that’s not _all_ my fault.”

Dean snorted. “It was way worse before you showed up, believe me. Seriously, I’m glad you’re here, you’re probably the best thing to happen to this place all day. Beer?” Dean asked, heading toward the kitchen.

“Sure?” Charlie shied away from the look Sam was still giving her. Geez, that boy could pull a mean bitch face. He got distracted, though, and turned away from her. Charlie noticed how closely he was watching Dean. She joined him.

Cas was partially blocking the fridge, so Dean playfully swatted the angel out of the way, but kept his hand on the angel’s arm, pausing to study Castiel’s face intently. “You okay?” Dean asked softly, almost too quietly for Charlie to hear.

"Yes, Dean,” Cas smiled at him, "I’m okay.”

It was just the tiniest exchange, but there was so much charge in it. Merlin’s beard. She hadn't even been there five minutes and she already shipped it. _Hard._

Dean turned, surprised to find he had an audience. “So, it’s settled, right? Charlie’s staying,” he said, leaning against the counter next to Castiel.

“I don’t think there’s even a point in arguing,” Sam sighed, “Hey, Dean? Did you forget something?”

"No? Don’t think so.”

“Uh, Charlie’s beer?” Sam asked, trying not to laugh.

“Oh, right. So Charlie, how’d you find us, anyway?”

“You seriously have to ask? I hacked into your service provider’s online system, looked up the number you called me from, and narrowed your location down to Eaton. From there, I forged myself a plane ticket. The rest was easy, seeing as this is the only hotel in town and you guys made quite the impression on Mrs. Way-too-Friendly at the front desk. Nice digs, by the way. Which room is mine?”

“Take your pick—those are both open,” Sam said.

“Sweet. Also, we should definitely get some food. I’m starving.”

 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel caught Charlie up on the way to the restaurant. To her credit, she only started fangirling once during the ride, causing Cas—who was in the backseat with her—some serious concern.

"Are you okay?” he asked, leaning forward with the serious expression Charlie was starting to think was his _only_ expression.

 

"Wow. You guys really don’t know anything about the fair folk,” she said after they explained what they knew about the elves. She slid into the booth.

Dean slid in after her, earning her a slight frown from Cas. “And you do?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah. Big time. Before you say anything, I am _not_ referring to Tolkien’s eves, though I know a lot about them, too.”

Their waiter turned up, an awkward, nerdy college-age boy that smiled at Charlie a few too many times for her liking.

"Hi, I’m Jason, I’ll be your server. Is there anything I can start you off with?”

They ordered the drinks, and the waiter seemed to be gathering up the nerves to say something.

“Captain Hammer, right? The shirt?” he nodded at Charlie, “I love Dr. Horrible. I’m pretty sure the actress that plays Penny is the woman of my dreams.” He laughed nervously.

“Mine too,” Charlie laughed, trying to give him the hint. “Anything in the Whedonverse has my name written all over it.”

"What _is_  your name?”

Dean and Sam rolled their eyes.

"Charlie.”

“Nice to meet you, Charlie. I’ll be right out with your drinks.”

“Poor guy,” Dean chuckled after he left, “So you wanna wow us with your wealth of knowledge, oh wise one?”

“That’s Grand Master Wise One to you, Winchester.”

Dean gestured for her to continue.

“Okay, so, Tolkien actually based his elves off Norse mythology—a species called the aelfs. There are two different kinds, but he looked more at the ljósàfar, or light elves. Dark elves are arguably where the concept of dwarves come from, but that’s beside the point,” Charlie rattled off, growing more and more pleased with the dumbfounded expressions on both Winchesters’ faces. Even Cas looked surprised. “I don’t think we’re hunting them, though, because according to mythology they don’t even come down to earth. But there’s buttloads of mythology out there on a whole bunch of different types of elves.”

“Why do you know all this?” Dean asked.

"Please. The minute I learned that monsters exist, the _first_ thing I did was check and see if elves exist too. I did buckets of research.”

“What do you know about the elves we’re hunting?” Castiel asked, his head tilting to the side in confusion. It was cute—it made Cas look like a confused puppy. Or an innocent little kitten with bright, blue eyes. Dean watched Cas with a thoughtful smile.

“The disappearances actually sound like a lot of old Germanic stories about elves. Elves in those stories are actually a lot like Lord of the Rings, particularly those of Mirkwood—“

“Charlie.”

"Sorry. I don’t think they necessarily _mean_ to abduct people, it’s something that just happens, I think. See, they’re not bad, but they’re not good, either. They can go either way. What they really love is beauty—nature, music, the works.”

“And the abductions?”

The waiter came back with their food. He asked Charlie (and the rest of the group) if they needed anything else.

“Ugh,” Charlie groaned after Jason the waiter left. “Anyways, the elves used to dance on the moors, usually in the morning mist or something cheesy like that, where the veil between our world and theirs was thinnest. According to the stories, if a man saw them, he was totally under their spell. Cuz, you know, they’re so inhumanly beautiful and all that,” Charlie smiled wistfully at the thought. “He’d run off to join their little orgy thing—“ Cas squinted, Dean snorted, and Sam rolled his eyes, “—and either die or lose his mind because of the intensity of it.”

"That explains Joshua. And I’m assuming time doesn't pass in their world.”

“If the elves are bringing the men to their plane of existence,” Cas cut in, “time will flow differently for them. There’s no way of knowing the exchange rate between our world and theirs.”

"Wait, wait, wait. Hang on," Dean said, getting excited about something, "So Cas, are you saying that the 'speed of time's progression'  _does,_ in fact, change?" Dean smirked, referring to their conversation earlier that week. Cas rolled his eyes.

“Anyways," Sam drew the word out, "how do we kill them?”

“Yeah…no idea," Charlie said. "The internet didn't really have anything on that. Do we _have_ to kill them?”

"They're abducting people, Charlie. We're not dealing with Elrond here," Sam reminded her.

Dean shrugged. “Either way, you've just cut off hours of research, and for that, I’m always grateful,” he nudged Charlie with his elbow, a warm smile on his lips.

Castiel frowned at them. He had cut off hours of research, too. He’d possibly even saved their lives—they never would have known they were hunting elves if it weren't for him. Dean probably would have rushed in headfirst and would have ended up like Joshua, mindless and lost.

But Cas never got a smile like that.

He studied Charlie closely. He’d often heard Sam and Dean mention her fondly, like the younger sister they never had. Almost every sentence she spoke brought a reference he didn't understand, but he gathered that even _Dean_ didn't understand many of them. He wanted to like her, she seemed like a very nice girl, but there was something that was bothering him. He couldn't place it.

It had something to do with the smile Dean gave her.

“I think I have something,” he found himself saying, “a way of getting rid of them.”

Dean looked up at Cas from his burger, eyes large and bright. His gaze remained on Cas’ eyes for just a second before flicking down to his lips. “Care to elaborate, Cas?”

“Um,” Cas tried to remember what he was saying. They were all waiting for him to say something. “Charlie was right when she said the elves live in a different world, on a different plane of existence from our own. They must be coming to our world through a thin point in the wall between our worlds. There is an ancient Enochian spell that should return the elves to their world while simultaneously prevent them from returning.”

“Awesome. What do we need?” Sam asked.

“Something originating from their world—an article of clothing, a lock of hair, perhaps, and the blood of someone with elven magic in their system. And we have to perform the spell on the spot that the elves are leaking in through.”

“Alright, so we have Joshua—“

“Joshua won’t work.”

“Of course not,” Dean sighed, “Because when are our lives easy? Just out of curiosity, _why_ won’t it work?”

"Don’t snap at me, Dean,” Cas snapped back, “the magic has to be in his blood—Joshua hasn't been near the elves in three weeks. We need someone newly infected.”

“Which means we either wait for another civilian to stumble on the elves or one of us needs to fall under the spell?” Charlie guessed.

"So you’re saying we have to find the elves’ clubhouse, take something from them, and then, on top of that, we have to let one of us look at them and go coo coo for coco puffs?”

“I volunteer as tribute!” Charlie cried, banging her fist on the table, “Ow…look, if someone here gets to see elves, it’s going to be me. Don’t even fight me on this one, guys.”

“Actually, Charlie, it seems to only affect men,” Sam said, his thinking face on. “This has been going on for decades, and every single victim has been male. That’s never a coincidence in our line of work.”

“So you’re saying I get to see sexy elves _without_ having to go batshit crazy? Awesome!”

“They won’t affect me, either,” Cas said.

"Of course not,” Dean snorted, “Because you’re not attracted to anything, right? You have to appreciate attraction to fall for the elves’ crap?”

“I don’t—“ Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean, “What are you trying to say?”

“First we have to find out where they’re coming through, right?” Sam swooped in to diffuse the tension, “Matt Alcott went missing during his morning jog, and Charlie said that in the stories, they’re usually seen in the mornings.”

“Castiel and I can go to the forest to look for them tomorrow!” Charlie offered.

“No way we’re letting you out of our sight,” Dean growled, “Not that we don’t trust you, Cas, obviously, but what if we’re wrong? What if Charlie’s not immune? Or what if you’re not immune?”

“Dean,” Cas sighed, “I have seen all of heaven’s host gathered in our true forms to sing praises to God. _Nothing_ in this world—or adjacent worlds—can compare. The elves’ unearthly beauty will be nothing to me. Charlie will be fine with me, Dean. If she isn't immune, I will bring her back to the hotel immediately, watch over her until the spell is complete. It’s perfectly safe for both of us.”

“Fine, but I don’t like it. So tomorrow morning you guys’ll head out to look for the elves, and Sam and I can just…hang back at the hotel and worry? Sounds great, I’m really looking forward to it.” Dean said.

“I get that you’re being sarcastic, but I _am_ excited,” Charlie grinned.

They didn't talk about the case for the rest of the meal. Charlie told the boys about what she'd been up to, working as an IT girl named Cassie at a small company in Indiana, and the Winchesters told her about their last case.

Cas was relatively quiet, but Charlie was floored by the amount of longing glances shared between Dean and Cas. Cas would be looking at Dean, and then would look away when Dean looked up. Dean would then stare for a while, quickly looking away when Cas turned to him. It went on and on.

“They have pie,” Sam said.

“We have a Hulk,” Charlie replied, almost reflexively, looking down at the dessert menu. 

Castiel’s entire face lit up and he turned to smile at Dean proudly. He had just seen the movie Charlie referenced with Dean last night. “I understood that reference,” he said to Dean with a smirk.

It took Dean a second to realize that Cas had made a reference right back. “Son of a bitch! Cas, you just made your first ever movie reference!” he laughed.

               

"Hey, do you mind if Charlie and I head over to the diner for a bit? I can download a map of the trails and we can go over the most efficient route through them for tomorrow morning. The Wi-Fi in the hotel sucks,” Sam added as an explanation to Charlie.

"That’s seriously the best you could come up with, Sammy?” Dean asked skeptically. “Go ahead, but I _will_ find out whatever it is you two are trying to hide,” he warned.

“We’re not—“

“Don’t even try it, Charlie. You’re one of the worst liars I’ve ever seen. Go ahead and take the Impala—Cas’ll just zap me back to the hotel.” Dean tossed Sam the keys. Castiel put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and they were gone.

“So?”

Charlie groaned, slamming her head down on the table. “So much love. So many feels.”

“Finally. Someone else gets it,” Sam laughed.

"That is so _horrible_!” Charlie sat up, spitting a strand of hair out of her mouth, “I can see why you called in the big guns.”

“You’re supposed to be the big guns?”

“Come on, Sam, let me have my moment. So tell me everything. How do you put up with it?”

“Okay, I realize I was super oblivious, but up till a few days ago I didn't actually understand the full extent of what was going on between them…they've sort of been acting that way since the day they met, even more so since they got out of purgatory. I just thought that Cas was super intense, you know? But now that I actually get what’s going on, it is driving me _crazy._ ”

“Seriously! How have they not _exploded_ already?”

“Well technically,” Sam began with a smile, but thinking better of it, continued, “I know what you mean. And I can only say ‘I’m going to the library to research, I won’t be back in a few hours,’ so many more times before _I_ explode.”

“So have you actually done anything to get them to see sense?”

“Uh, yeah… Nothing I did worked, obviously, and looking back on it, it was all kind of stupid of me…” Sam told her about the cinnamon thing. “I was so sure it was going to work, but I got back and nothing was different.” He then told her about his talk with Cas, and about how Cas freaked out.

"Why are telling me?” she demanded, covering her ears with her hands, “I don’t want a face full of angel wrath.”

“I promised him I wouldn't tell _Dean,_ Charlie. If you’re going to be my partner in crime, you have to be up to speed.”

“Is that what I am?

“If you’d like,” Sam smiled.

"I like it. Code name: Operation Dean and Cas. Have you talked to Dean about any of this?”

“No. I was thinking about doing it when you and Cas are gone tomorrow. I just have to figure out what to say.”

“You have to be _really_ careful. Dean’s gotten a lot better at talking about his feelings since the first book, er, you know, but he’s still a delicate little flower. If he thinks you’re hinting at what you’re hinting at, then he’ll totally shut down and Destiel will never happen.”

“Destiel? Really?”

"I thought of it during dinner, you like? It’s better than Cean or CasDean…although I admit it’s not as catchy as ‘Wincest.’” She teased.

“Oh, come on! You totally just ruined the moment!’

“Whatever, whiney baby. Let’s think of what you’re going to say.”

 

Dean sat up in bed, torn from a dead sleep. His sheets were tangled around him and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead and back. The room was empty, but he could have sworn he woke up to the sound of fluttering feathers.

Dean sighed, passing a hand over his face. It was probably just a part of the dream, the one good thing in that horrid nightmare. Dean had nightmares every night, but this one was worse than usual…it was like he had to relive every bad thing that had ever happened to Sam or Cas, all in quick succession, every time they’d died, disappeared, or abandoned him. Every time he’d hurt them or abandoned them. He had to relive the pain in their eyes, the total agony and sense of betrayal. Sometimes he woke up thinking it was the apocalypse all over again.

He got up to go to the bathroom. Cas looked up from the couch, eyes wide, when Dean’s door opened. The angel was sitting on the couch with a book Charlie gave him to read—The Hobbit. Dean squinted at it.

“Uh, Cas? Were you just in my room?”

“No,” the angel answered too quickly.

“Right. So you've just been sitting out here, reading your book?”

“Yes.” 

“Cas. You’re holding it upside down.”

Cas looked down at the book in his hands like it had betrayed him in some horrible way. Sighing, he set it aside. “You were having a nightmare. I wanted to make sure you were okay.” A thrill went down Dean’s spine. He could always count on at least one angel to watch over him.

“That’s creepy, Cas,” Dean said, walking to the bathroom and trying to ignore Castiel’s wounded puppy look.

When Dean got out, rather than heading back into his room, he collapsed next to Cas on the couch, close enough so their arms were touching. He knew from experience he wouldn't be able to sleep, not after a nightmare like that. He  _could_ take comfort in Castiel's presence. It would help him forget...for a little while.

“I was wondering,” he began, keeping his voice low so he wouldn't wake Sam or Charlie. He could hear Sam’s loud snores from the other room.  “So either me or Sam have to let the elves go all love spell on our asses, but you’ll be able to get the crazy out afterwards, right? We’re not gonna be stuck as vegetables like Joshua, are we?”

"I don’t know what vegetables have to do with anything, but you won’t be like Joshua. Joshua physically entered the elves' world, and human brains aren't wired to be able to endure that much magic. As soon as you see the elves you'll be under their spell, but you won't be insane, and I may have to wipe your short term memory, but I can fix it.”

“You can do that?”

“It’s not easy.”

“Okay, so tomorrow, when you’re with Charlie—“

“I’ll take care of her, Dean,” Cas said, his tone exasperated.

“I know. That’s not what I was going to say, actually—“

“You like Charlie,” Cas said bluntly.

“’Course I do…”

“I can see why. She is lovely, friendly, and sweet, and she makes many of the same references as you.”

“Uh…sure,” Dean agreed, trying to understand what Cas was getting at. His brain was still half asleep, and leaning against Castiel's warmth on the comfortable couch wasn't helping. The angel seemed upset about something. “Do you have a point here, Cas?”

“Do you think,” Cas began, using Sam’s earlier expression, “you will be more than friends?”

“ _What?_ ” Dean asked loudly. The sound of Sam’s snoring stopped and Dean and Cas froze, waiting for the sound to resume. “What?” he repeated at a reasonable volume when they were sure Sam was asleep.

“You’re _not_ romantically interested in Charlie?” Cas clarified, looking at Dean with his usual intense gaze.

“ _NO!_ What the hell’s the matter with you? She’s like my little sister. Besides, she plays for the other team.”

“What team?” Cas asked, head cocking to the side. Dean tried not to, but he couldn't help thinking about how cute it was.

"Wait, Cas…” Dean said, trying not to keep the worry out of his voice. A horrible thought had just occurred to him. “Are _you_? Uh, romantically interested in Charlie, I mean?”

A small smile appeared on Castiel’s lips, and it almost made Dean’s heart stop. Please say no. Come on, Cas. Say no.

“No.”

“Thank God,” Dean breathed a sigh of relief. Shit. Had he said that out loud? He adopted his manliest bravado and tried to save face. “Because, you know, that would've been uncomfortable…for you… _and_ me…I would've had to break to you…when I say Charlie _plays for the other team_ , it means she’s interested in other women. Romantically,” he explained, looking down at Castiel’s tie.

“Oh. What team do you play for?”

Dean’s head snapped up to look at Cas. Dean assumed the angel meant the question innocently, but something in Castiel’s eyes made Dean wonder if he didn't know exactly what he was asking. That, or Dean was on edge because the question reminded him of some very, uh, _non-heterosexual_ thoughts he’d been having as of late.

Dean sputtered, trying to think of a response. “I, uh…you don’t just ask people that, Cas!”

"Why not?”

“Because it’s personal!”

“Dean. I pulled your soul from heaven and rebuilt you piece by piece. I've saved your life and you've saved mine. We lived side by side for a year in purgatory, fighting monsters and surviving off of primal instinct. How is a question about your sexual orientation too personal?”

"Okay, then, pal. You wanna play that game? You first.”

“What team do _I_ play for?” Cas asked, blue eyes boring into Dean’s.

"Yeah.”

“I don’t think I have a team.” Cas said. Unless you count _Dean Winchester_ as a team, he added to himself. Dean rolled his eyes.

“I should have seen that coming. Whatever, dude. You _know_ what team I’m on—I’m on Team ‘Random Hot Chicks in bars.’ Can we not talk about this?”

“If that’s what you want, Dean. How about this instead: what were you dreaming about?”

“No. No, no, no, no. That’s way worse.”

Cas didn't say anything, just watched Dean with his large, worried eyes.

"You really want to know? Okay, let’s talk about it. Every single night, I am _terrified_ of falling asleep, because the moment I’m out, I’m locked in nightmares that are worse than you could _ever_ imagine. It doesn't matter if I’m asleep for five minutes, an hour, or a full eight hours. No matter how much I try, I can’t wake up from them, and night after night, I’m forced to relive every painful thing that has ever happened to me and then some,” Dean blinked slowly, “I am _exhausted._ I’m _always_ exhausted. But you couldn't _possibly_ understand any of that, Cas, because you don’t feel. You don’t dream.”

Cas looked miserable. “You’re right. I don’t dream, Dean. But I do feel. I may not express feelings like you or Sam, but the feelings are there.” This time, Cas was the one to look away. “When I feel your fear in the middle of the night, when I hear you hopelessly calling out my name in the middle of the night, with terror in your voice, I feel, and I would give _anything_ to make it better for you, Dean.”

Dean choked down the retort he had ready, looking at Cas with wide eyes. “I appreciate the thought, Cas,” he felt like he needed to say something to make Cas feel better. “It’s not really so bad. Sometimes, if I drink so much I black out, the nightmares are almost bearable,” he smirked. “But enough sharing and caring. I’m not going to be sleeping anymore tonight, so you mind if I turn on the TV?”

Cas handed Dean the remote before returning to Charlie’s book. At one point, Dean laughed at something that was said on the TV, the vibrations in his chest reverberating against Castiel’s arm. Cas looked down at where their bodies were touching, wishing he could reach out and touch more of Dean, pull the human to his chest, press his lips to the hunter’s lips...Dean didn't even seem to notice.

Not five minutes later, Castiel’s entire body froze when Dean leaned over to rest his head on Cas’ shoulder. Cas felt his eyes grow wide. “…Dean?”

Dean didn't respond, the remote falling from his limp hand to hit the ground. His breathing was even. Dean Winchester was fast asleep.

“Dean?” Cas asked again, a little softer this time. At the sound of Castiel’s voice, Dean actually _snuggled in_ closer. Cas let his eyes rove around the room, feeling like a trapped animal. He tried to stay still so as not to wake Dean, tried not to think about Dean’s warmth against his side.

Shaking his wings out in the open living room, he wrapped one of them around Dean, pulling the hunter closer. It was the only small action Cas would allow himself—if Dean woke up, he wouldn't even be able to see the wings—just feel their warmth. But Castiel felt Dean beneath the shelter of his wing-- it was the only touch Cas would allow himself. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell that was home to him—Dean smelled of gunmetal, alcohol, and light cologne, but it was a smell Cas had grown to love.

Castiel waited for Dean's nightmares to return, but Dean slept peacefully through the night.

 

In the morning, Sam stretched and headed into the living room, freezing when he saw the scene before him. His jaw actually dropped. Cas was on one end of the couch, looking up at Sam like a frightened rabbit. Dean was curled up against him—like, _flush_ against him. Any closer and he’d be full out on top of Cas. He was fast asleep, his face buried between Castiel’s neck and shoulder, his hand draped across Castiel’s leg.

Charlie was eating a bowl of cereal at the table, smiling at Sam like she had planned the entire thing.

“I could use some help,” Castiel said in a grating whisper, “I haven’t been able to move in over five hours.” He tried to shift in his seat, stopping immediately when Dean started to stir.

“No, man, you’re doing great,” Sam smiled broadly, giving Cas a thumbs up. He headed to the kitchen to grab a granola bar.

"Sam—“ Cas warned, probably louder than he should have.

Dean turned so he could better face the warm body he was pressed against and inhaled, breathing in the smell that was all at once sexy, familiar, and welcoming. He felt better rested than he could ever remember being—he’d slept for God only knows how long without a single nightmare. But why?

Dean froze, remembering the previous night and just _who_ he was curled up against. He realized where he was and the position he was in—including the _serious_ morning wood he was sporting.

He heard Sam and Charlie’s voices behind him. Great. Even better.

“Dean?” Castiel asked, having felt Dean tense beside him.

“Shut up, Cas,” Dean growled against Castiel’s shoulder, “I’m trying my hardest to die of embarrassment right now.”

He shoved himself off Cas, settling at the other side of the couch and surreptitiously placing a pillow in front of his crotch. Sam and Charlie were seated at the table, and Sam was smiling a little too smugly into his coffee.

“Cas, did you _mojo_ me to sleep? What the hell?”

"I didn't touch you.”

Dean blushed and stammered angrily. "When another guy falls asleep on you, you're supposed to  _wake him the fuck up_ , got it? You don’t let him cuddle with you, okay?” Dean shouted.

Charlie giggled, and Dean turned to glare at her.

“Nobody ever mentions this. _Ever._ ” Dean snapped.

"Like that’s going to happen,” Sam said, smirking, “Hey, you know that expression ‘you have an angel on your shoulder?’ It’s funny, cuz in your case it’s the other way around—you’re the one drooling and snoring on the _angel’s_ shoulder.”

“Sam, so help me God—“

“Hey Cas, so when are you and I heading out?” Charlie asked.

“Now, if you’d like,” Cas said. The angel’s rough voice made the already prominent bulge in Dean’s sweatpants twitch.

“Wait…you’re not going wearing _that_ , are you?” Charlie asked, mortified.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Cas looked down at his clothes.

"She has a point, Cas. What if you run into another hiker or something? Normal people don’t go hiking in a suit and a trench coat,” Sam and Charlie shared a look.

“Since when have we cared about that?” Dean asked. “It’s not like we’re ever going to see these people again.”

“Yeah, but there’s no guarantee we’re going to find the elves today. It could take a couple days. And if anyone sees Cas going for a hike in the same exact outfit he wears every day, they’re gonna start getting nosey. Is that a good enough argument for you, Dean?”

“I guess…but Cas doesn't even have anything else to wear. Right, Cas?”

“Then lend him something of yours, Dean! Stop being weird,” Sam snapped.

“I’m not—“ Dean eyed Cas, picturing Cas in his clothes. “Uh yeah, okay. I’ll see if I can find something.”

After a brief internal debate—what of his did he most want to see Castiel wearing?—he settled on a pair of black athletic shorts and a green V-neck.

“Here,” Dean tossed Cas the pile of clothes. “You’ll have to borrow my Sneakers, too, since we’re trying to look the part.” He sneered at Sam.

 

 _Holy shit,_ but seeing Cas wearing his clothes was the hottest thing ever. Hotter than the cinnamon thing, for sure.

Dean found himself grateful for the pillow on his lap as he looked Cas up and down. The shirt showed off his lean torso beautifully and the pants were just a _little_ too tight (they were too small for Dean, truth be told), and when Cas turned sideways to say something to Sam, _well…_ He tried not to think about it.

“If you see something,” Sam was saying, “come back here and zap one of us over. The sooner we can get this case over with, the better.”

“We got it,” Charlie said. She could barely contain her excitement. She was about to see _elves._ Actual, real life _elves._ And Dean was looking at Cas like he was the most important creature in all the universe. And Sam was happy. And this was _so_ much better than the last hunt she had joined the boys on. “Can we go now?”

“Yeah,” Sam sighed, “Get lost.”

 

Dean could feel the pressure in the room building. There was a palpable tension in the air, and Dean felt it whenever he moved or breathed or spoke. He felt uneasy, but all he could do was sit and wait for the inevitable snap.

Sam wanted to talk about feelings.

Sam was preparing himself for one of his chick-flick moments, but Dean had no idea why. For once, they weren’t dealing with any drama. There was no ultimate bad guy, no hard feelings between them, nothing was wrong.

He was up to something with Charlie that he was definitely trying to hide, and Sam _had_ been acting weird the past couple of days, now that Dean thought about it. He’d been jittery and smiley and full out _weird._ First there was the air freshener thing, and then whatever he and Cas were so pissed about, and then the thing with Charlie…

At some point in the past few days, something started bugging Sam to the point where he felt he needed to talk to Dean about it. Something to do with Dean. And emotions. But what…oh no. Oh _hell_ no.

"Son of a bitch,” he said without thinking.

“What?” Sam asked, looking around the room. “Dude, you okay?”

"I’m fine, Sam. I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Wait,” Sam began.

“No, Sammy. No chick flick moments. No talking about feelings. It’s not happening, I don’t want to hear it.”

"You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“You do?” Sam asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“Wait…no, I don’t,” Dean squinted at Sam, “Did you just lawyer me? Forget it, just let me go shower.”

“Dean, I just want to talk.”

"Dude, no.”

“Dude, yes! Come on, we never have serious talks about anything anymore.”

"Good! Let’s keep it that way.”

“Dean—“

“Sam, I am _not_ gay for an angel.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up again. “Uh, Dean, I was talking about your nightmares. No one ever said anything about Cas, but if you, um, would rather talk about, uh…”

"Wait…oh. I thought you were…” Dean shuffled uncomfortably, “It’s funny. For a second there I thought you've been trying to set me up with Cas this past week.”

“Ew. No. Why the hell would I--? Gross. I don’t even want to _think_ about that. I mean, not that I would mind if that’s what you wanted…Cuz it’s not that there’s anything wrong with, you know, _that._ ”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with it. Aside from the fact that he’s an _angel_ and our _friend_ and it’s _weird._ ”

“So…it’s not the, um, _guy_ thing that’s bothering you?”

“No! Of course that doesn't bother me! Shit. That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing _bothering_ me because there’s nothing there that could be doing the bothering... Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do. But you seem to be getting pretty flustered over nothing here, Dean.”

“We are _not_ having this conversation right now.”

“Hey,” Sam began, leaning back with a smile, “you’re the one that brought it up.”

“I did _not_ bring it up! Or, I didn't mean to.”

“A Freudian slip, maybe?” Sam smirked. “Hey, I’m not judging you, man. You were cute all snuggled up into him this morning.”

“I will cut you, Sammy. And I refuse to talk about this any longer.” He went to grab a beer from the fridge.

“Dean, it’s seven in the morning!”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get for pissing me off.”

“You don’t want to talk about your nightmares, you don’t want to talk about your apparent man-crush on Cas, how about we talk about your alcohol problem?”

“I don’t have an alcohol problem,” Dean snapped. “Or nightmares or a man-crush on Cas.”

"Right.”

Dean hit his brother lightly on the back of the head before collapsing on the couch.

Sam smiled at the back of his brother’s head, thrilled at how well that went. Granted, Dean obviously wasn’t ready to profess his undying love for Castiel, but he was at least aware it existed—that was way more than Sam expected, and put him and Charlie ahead of schedule.

 

“I feel something here,” Castiel said, gazing up at a massive oak tree.

“This is the third time you’ve said that in two hours,” Charlie sighed. The tree _was_ impressive. It could totally be a portal to another world. The last time, Castiel stopped them in the middle of a meadow, insisting that he felt magic. The time before that was at the bed of a stream. In each location, he would do some weird magic/spell/angel stuff with a blinding flare of bright white light that Charlie wouldn’t even pretend to understand, say that “elves had been there before, but it was not where they were coming through,” and move on.

They had done so. much. walking. Charlie was _not_ an athletic person. She was a go on the computer, watch a movie, reblog some posts on Tumblr kind of person. When she did get a good cardio workout in, they were usually more of a horizontal nature, and while walking around in the wilderness with an angel looking for elves was totally awesome, it was freaking exhausting.

“It’s stronger this time,” Castiel murmured.

Charlie caught movement out of the corner of her eye and squeaked, grabbing Cas’ arm. Was it an elf? The figure emerged from the bend in the trail and Charlie growled in frustration. It wasn’t an elf. It was another freaking jogger. What was it with the people in this city and their morning exercise? Lame.

They were going to wait to examine the tree until he passed, but to their surprise, he stopped in front of them.

“Hi, Charlie!” the jogger said, mostly at Charlie.

“Oh! Hey! Restaurant guy! Jason, right?” Charlie looked nervously at Cas, who was standing beside the tree. _Get rid of him_ , the angel mouthed.

“Yeah! I’m surprised you remembered. You know, I’m glad I caught you—I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

"Oh, I’ll be around for a little while longer,” Charlie laughed, pacing in a half-circle around Jason, making him turn so his back was to Castiel. Cas turned to examine the tree.

“I’m glad to hear it. I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner or something. You know, with me. We can talk about the Whedonverse, if you like,” he smiled, looking like he was about to be sick.

“Oh, I—“ Charlie trailed off, looking at Castiel. He was starting to do his blinding light-magic-thing with Jason _right there,_ and the entire tree was starting to glow _._ The freaking angel couldn’t wait _two minutes?_ Jason started to turn to see what she was looking at. “I would love to!” she practically shouted, turning his attention back to her.

“Really? Awesome! You're, uh, the first girl who's ever agreed to go out with me..."

"I find that hard to believe," Charlie smiled, shooting Cas a warning glance when Jason looked down at his feet. "Actually, Jason, you seem like a really nice guy, but, I, uh, _oh!_ "

"What?! What do you keep looking at?” Jason asked, turning again, determined to see what was freaking Charlie out so much.

“No, don't!” Charlie shouted. Unable to think of a better option, she decided to take one for the team. She pulled Jason in and gave him a quick, awkward, and horrible peck on the lips. The glowing in the tree finally faded. “Sorry. How about I, uh, stop by the restaurant tonight? Say eight?”

“Wow,” the kid gaped at her. “Uh, yeah. That works. Listen, Charlie—“

“We’ll have plenty of time to talk tonight,” Charlie smiled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Now go, you little runner, you. Don’t let silly me get in the way of your fitness.”

 

“What’s the deal, man?!” She asked Cas when Jason finallyleft. “You couldn’t wait _five minutes_ for me to get rid of the kid? Now I’m stuck going on a date with a dude because _you_ started making a tree glow!”

“The mist was fading, and with it the magic,” Cas explained, unapologetic. “If I hadn’t checked the tree when I did, we would have had to wait for tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Fine. As far as reasons go, that’s probably not the worst.”

“This is it, by the way. The spot where the elves are entering our world.”

“Oh, really? Awesome.”

“Charlie?” Cas began curiously, thinking of how to phrase his question. “Dean said that you… _play for the other team_. So why would you kiss the waiter?”

Charlie shuddered. “Ew, thanks for reminding me. I did it because you weren’t being at all subtle and he was about to turn around and see a glowing tree and I couldn’t think of anything else to do.”

“So it was purely a means of distraction,” Cas clarified.

“Right. You know, like, in movies sometimes a kiss can be used as a distraction. The Black Widow actually did something similar in the new Captain America movie,” Charlie grinned. “So I guess Scar Jo and I are pretty much twins now."

"I'm sure you are," Castiel smiled, looking remarkably human in the t-shirt and shorts. 

"Think you could zap us back to the hotel now? You know, mission completed and all that. Oh, and  _don't_ tell Sam or Dean about Jason-- it was the act of a desperate woman, and I have a reputation to maintain."

 

They returned to the room just in time to see Dean throw a pillow full force at Sam's head.


	5. They're taking Charlie to Isengard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas, and Charlie find the elves. But their plan has way too many unexpected plot twists...not all of them bad?

“Uh, guys? What exactly is going on here?” Charlie asked.

“Sammy’s being a little bitch,” Dean said, dodging when Sam launched the pillow back at him.

“Aren't we a little old for pillow fights?”

Dean tried throwing the pillow at her next, but she ducked, letting it hit Castiel square in the face. The angel caught it in surprise before it hit the ground, looking at Dean with his best fed-up expression.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean apologized, a bright smile on his face. “That was meant for Charlie.”

“By the way, Sam,” Dean continued, “We still have to— _unff_.”

Sam didn't know which was funnier: the pillow hitting Dean so hard he nearly fell off the couch, or Dean’s look of utter bewilderment and shock, quickly followed by one of total betrayal.

“Don’t look at me!” Sam laughed, “You totally deserved that.”

“Whatever. So did you guys find any elves or what?”

Castiel was relieved to see that Dean was in a good mood. He was cautious at first, leaving Sam and Dean together, after what he’d accidentally confided to Sam in the car. Part of Castiel was afraid that he would return to find a worried Sam, eyes large and apologetic, and a furious or disgusted Dean.

Dean had been mad at Castiel before, and each time it felt like someone had ripped out a piece of his grace and held it under a blowtorch. If Dean ever found out about Castiel’s unhealthy attachment to him—let alone his _physical_ desires when it came to the hunter—there would be trouble.

At best, Dean would avoid him. He wouldn't look at Castiel, would only speak to him if it was necessary, may even stop calling him Cas. They would never share another night like the last—Dean would constantly be on his guard around Castiel. And that was being _kind._

More likely, Dean would be disgusted. He would feel used—how could Castiel betray him _again_? They were family. Romantically, Cas meant nothing more to Dean than Charlie did. Less, even.

In the worst case, Dean would hate Castiel. Say he never wanted to see the angel again— and mean it.

Castiel could live with unrequited love. He couldn't live without Dean.

That’s why Cas lost control when Sam said he was going to tell Dean. Castiel wasn't proud of his reaction. Fortunately, however, Dean was smiling at him, which means that Sam stayed true to his word.

“We found the magical door to the other dimension, but we didn't see a single frakking elf.”

“I don’t think you pronounced that correctly,” Cas nodded at her. 

“Okay, so what? We try again tomorrow?” Sam asked, ignoring Castiel’s comment.

“Yes. Now that we know where it is, we can take one of you two with us. Perform the spell immediately, depending on how many elves are present and how hostile they are to us,” Cas explained. “Which of you is it going to be?”

“Me,” Sam and Dean said at the same time. They turned to look at each other.

“Dude, it’s going to be me. I've done all the research, Doug called me, I’m the one that asked Cas to join us in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, I really want to see an elf. And I’ve seen Lord of the Rings like fifty more times than you.”

“That’s your argument? Really?”

“Cas is the one that’s going to be performing the spell. I say he gets to choose. Well, Cas, who’d you rather have join you: me or Sam?”

“That’s so not fair! Cas is biased.”

“I don’t understand. You _want_ to fall under a spell and temporarily go insane?" Cas clarified.

“It’s like the Siren thing, Cas. You know, how Odysseus has his crew tie him to the ship so he could hear the Sirens even though they’d drive him crazy?” Everyone turned to look at Dean, “Uh, and, you know, it’s better than sitting around worried sick while you three have all the fun,” Dean shrugged.

“Rock paper scissors,” Sam offered.

“Hell no. You know I always lose. Just let me have this one?”

“Fine,” Sam sighed. “Now you can’t say I never do anything for you.”

“Sweet. So now what?”

"Well, we have an entire day to wait…” Charlie began, squirming excitedly. “I know something we could do to pass the time. I brought it cuz, you know, it fits the case,” She ran to her bag an pulled a box out. She held it up: it was a Lord of the Rings box set. “Marathon?”

“Charlie, you get me,” Dean grinned, hopping up to put in the first disk.

 

Around eight, Charlie excused herself, looking for all the world like she was marching to her death.

“Where are you slinking off to?” Dean asked her.

“I have a date,” she mumbled, shooting a glare at Cas before slamming the door behind her. Cas smiled.

“Care to explain?”

Castiel explained what had happened, leaving out the part where Charlie had to kiss Jason. “If I had waited any longer, they would have been gone.” Cas shrugged.

“So what’s with the mist, anyway? Mornings in this town are straight out of Scooby Doo.”

“From what I can tell, the mist is linked to their magic. When the mist fades, it means the elves have returned to their world.”

“Huh.” Dean got up to grab some food. He looked back at Cas on the couch, who was leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. The angel was still wearing Dean’s clothes and didn't seem inclined to change anytime soon, and Dean definitely wasn't going to complain. His t-shirt showed off Castiel’s back _exquisitely_ , emphasizing the lean V-shape of his shoulders and back. Dean never really saw much of Castiel’s shape under the trench coat, so this was all new to him.

He was already aware of the nature of his feelings for Cas, formed through years of working side by side and trusting the other with their lives, and he thought he _just might_ be able to look past the fact that Cas was a guy.

He never thought he’d like it. Never, in a million years, did he think he would _check out a guy_ …and then want to see more. He had to admit it…Cas was pretty freakin’ hot. And don’t even get him started on the sex hair and bedroom eyes.

Dean couldn't help himself. He briefly wondered which of them would be the bottom and which would be the top. They could switch off, couldn't they? Dean allowed himself to picture Cas beneath him, writhing with pleasure as he plunged himself deeper into Cas…

But then, a dominant Cas would be sexy as hell, too. Dean could actually see himself letting Cas take charge, letting Cas push him backward onto a bed only to have Cas then climb on top of him, straddling him….

Dean shuddered. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, rushing to grab clothes from his bedroom before Sam or Cas could turn to look at him.

 

“Maybe we should go over the plan here,” Dean began. “I’m still not sure of my part in this.”

They were hiking through the trails, not far from the tree, according to Charlie. The mist was thicker than it had been since they came to Eaton.

Every so often, Dean thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye or heard music and laughter drifting through the trees. He wasn't the only one. Charlie was getting more and more nervous as they went on, jumping every time they heard the slightest sound, and Cas was scowling as his blue eyes scanned the trees, taking in every last detail.

“Your _part_ in this is to fall under a spell, Dean,” Cas said shortly. The angel had been on edge all morning, and seemed cross with Dean especially. “Charlie’s part is to find a way to get something belonging to the elves—“

”I’m going to ask for a token of their beauty, like in the movies,” Charlie squeaked excitedly. "You know, 'fair maiden, may I have a token of your affection to remember you by?'"

“Okay, and you—“

“I have to watch you, to make sure you don’t run off to join an elven orgy, as Charlie put it earlier.”

“…Right.”

“Hopefully, we will be able to perform the spell today The second the magic affects you, I’ll send you back to the hotel. Sam will take your blood and set up the spell, I’ll return for the ingredients and we’ll perform the spell.”

“Okay, but what if the elves—oh. Shit. Wow.”

They all froze as three ethereal beings stepped out from behind a tree.

 

“Sorry to frighten you,” one of them began. “we heard you talking about us and we got curious.”

They _were_ beautiful. Even Castiel had to admit it. It wasn't like angelic beauty, powerful and divine. Nor was it like human beauty, flawed and intense. It was an eerily wild beauty, and it put Cas on edge.

There were two women and a man. The women were Castiel’s height, the man almost as tall as Sam. One of the women was thin and waifish, the other curvy and elegant. The thin one had dark hair that framed her porcelain face. If it weren't for the _life_ she gave off, she would have reminded Castiel of one of the ghosts the Winchesters hunted regularly. The other was the classic golden Grecian goddess, strong jaw, olive complexion, and thick golden hair piled loosely on top of her head. The male was tall and lean, with pin-straight white hair and wide lips. They all had the same large, expressive eyes, wide and full of childlike curiosity and mischief.

They were all loosely dressed, in see-through whites and silvers. The blonde’s thin dress did very little to hide _anything,_ something Dean seemed to be keenly aware of.

“Woah,” Charlie said. Castiel blinked twice, Charlie’s voice pulling him from his daze.

"We’re glad we decided to let you find us,” the blonde smiled. She reached out to caress Dean’s cheek. Dean leaned in to the touch with a contented sigh. “You’re all so very beautiful. We love beautiful things, don’t we, Dianae?”

"Absolutely. You _must_ come back with us,” Dianae-- the dark haired elf-- cooed, her accent sweet and lilting, but also _dangerous._ “the others will adore you.”

"Enough. We’re not going anywhere,” Cas growled when the blonde elf’s hand dropped to Dean’s chest. Castiel turned to Dean, touching two fingers to Dean’s forehead. Castiel’s eyes grew wide when the hunter didn't disappear.

“Oh, that won’t work here,” the male elf said with a shrug. "You are very strong, angel, but you are on the border between our world and yours. You can’t just  _transport_ between the worlds.”

This threw a wrench in their plan. Dean was enraptured with the elves, completely at risk of doing something stupid. If Dean went with them, he’d be lost. But Cas couldn't perform this spell while also watching Dean, and there's no way the five foot, five inches tall Charlie could keep Dean-- even a spell-bound Dean-- from doing what he wanted to do.

“Charlie—“ Dean turned to see Charlie still enraptured with the elves.

Dianae smiled, the expression mischievous and adoring all at once. “Charlie? What an _enchanting_ name. Come with us, Charlie. Come dance with us, teach us the wonder of mortality and we will teach you the truth of beauty in return.”

Charlie automatically took a step forward, unable to stop herself. Cas caught her by the arm and pulled her back. What could he do? He was left with two enchanted humans, limited powers, and he was confronting three _very powerful_ magic creatures.

“I don’t understand, Castiel,” Dianae began, pouting, “you don’t _want_  to join us? No one has ever denied us before. It won't end well, angel.”

While her companion spoke, the blonde took Dean by the hand and started tugging him toward the tree, her eyes locked on his. Castiel prayed that his other powers still worked. He reached up and touched the male elf’s forehead. The elf’s eyes rolled into his forehead and he collapsed like a doll, unconscious. Castiel blinked. He really hadn't expected that to work.

Dianae growled and turned on Cas, dancing around him when he tried to do the same to her. She was faster than him, but he was stronger and her movements were predictable. Castiel caught her by the throat and dropped her to the ground, same as he had with the first elf.

“Get a lock of their hair,” Cas said to Charlie, who didn't look like she heard, before moving to take on the blonde.

Dean stood and watched blankly as the elf and the angel fought, pouting a little when Castiel succeeded in dropping her.

They had one foot in their world and one foot in the other, and using Castiel's powers on a plane between worlds was exhausting him and sapping his strength more than he could have ever predicted. He probably wouldn't be able to take on even one more elf, let alone cast a spell and transport them all out of there.

“ _Dean,_ ” Castiel tried to pull Dean back, but Dean was rooted to the spot, looking at something over Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel turned.

The tree was visible a ways down the trail. There was a large elven party celebrating under its branches, complete with music, mist, and dancing. The music was complex and beautiful, unlike anything Castiel had heard before. There were at least twenty of them—twirling and stepping to the music like they’d been made to do it. They weaved between each other in patterns too complex for even Castiel to follow, giving him a sense of unease.

“I have to go, Cas,” Dean whined.

“ _Look at me_. Come with me,” Cas pulled, trying to lead Dean away from the tree, just far enough to be completely in their own world so he could zap Dean away—if he still had the strength. Dean fought against him. “Don’t look at them.”

“The elves...”

“I’ll take you to the elves, Dean. Just look at me.”

Every second Dean watched the elves, his eyes expression grew more and more distant, the light behind his eyes becoming dimmer and dimmer. Castiel had to distract him. There was an idea. Something Cas could do. Something he  _shouldn't_ do, but something that might distract Dean long enough for Cas to be able to pull him away…

Without thinking about it, without worrying about the consequences, without even knowing if it would even work, Castiel reached up to caress Dean's jaw, pulling the hunter down into a kiss just as Charlie had done the day before. Dean tensed and his hand shot up to grab Castiel’s arm, preparing to push the angel away from him.

Castiel pulled away from him before he had a chance, forgetting why he had kissed Dean in the first place. Dean blinked down at him, a look of complete shock sprawled across his face. Castiel waited for the disgust, but he would have taken even that over the unnaturally blank expression Dean had when watching the elves.

 

Castiel was kissing him. It was the first rational thought Dean was able to form since the elves appeared. Castiel’s lips were pressed against Dean’s. For as chapped as they looked, they were surprisingly soft. Dean leaned in to the kiss, reaching up to grab Cas’ arm, to make sure it was real. Castiel’s kiss was clumsy and tense and _way_ too short.

Cas pulled back, looking ashamed. The angel let his hand drop, but Dean wasn't done yet. Not when they'd finally reached this point. After all the times they'd _nearly_ kissed, after ever time he'd stared into Cas' eyes and Cas had stared back into his, he was sick of it. He was done with the endless foreplay. Five years of waiting was too much, and he wasn't going to wait any longer, consequences be damned.

Dean grabbed back of Castiel’s neck and roughly pulled the angel up to him, his mouth searching and hungry. Castiel didn't kiss him back, not at first, and Dean started to worry he’d misread the situation.

But then his angel made a soft whimpering sound in the back of his throat, and it was all the encouragement Dean needed. 

Dean’s other hand reached up to wrap around Castiel’s waist, and he pulled the angel as close as he could manage. gasping when he felt Castiel’s warmth pressed against him. His hand roved up and down Castiel’s back, feeling the muscles he’d been admiring earlier, while his other hand tangled itself in Castiel’s messy black hair.

Castiel was touching him back now, with the urgency of a thirsty man who’d spent years wandering in the desert. He ran his hands up and down Dean’s arms, he gripped desperately at Dean’s shirt, trying to pull him closer, and he carded his fingers through the hair at the base of Dean’s neck, his nails scraping gently. Dean shuddered at the sensation, pushing more urgently into Castiel.

He ran his tongue gently across Cas’ top lip, goading Cas into opening his mouth. The angel’s breath hitched at the touch and his lips parted slightly. Dean slipped his tongue inside Cas' mouth, tasting everything that was _Castiel,_ exploring the taste he’d always wondered about but never thought he’d experience. And it was so much better than he’d ever imagined.

The angel’s teeth scraped across Dean’s bottom lip and the hunter moaned openly, rolling his hips against Cas. Castiel moaned, and Dean lost all ability to think.

Dean growled and slammed Cas back into the nearest tree, pressing Castiel into the bark with all his weight. He slid a knee between Cas' legs, getting even closer.

" _Dean_ ," the angel purred, arching his back.

The sound of music reached Dean's ears.

He didn't want this to end. But every instinct was telling him to stop, that they were still in danger.

He tore himself away, gasping. “ _Jesus Christ._ I need to breathe a minute, dude.”

“I…apologize,” Castiel said. His face was an inch away from Dean’s, and it took every ounce of self control Dean had not to kiss the confused expression off Cas’ face. “Are you…you’re no longer under the spell?” A line appeared between the angel's eyebrows.

“Don’t think so,” Dean breathed. “ _Shit._ Charlie! Where the hell is Charlie?”

They turned to see Charlie stumbling down the trail toward the elves. “Shit,” Dean swore again, rushing after her with Cas right on his heels. She was slow and unsteady on her feet, which is the only reason Dean and Cas were able to catch up with her before the elves saw them.

“Let go,” Charlie hissed. “I need to go make love to dozens of beautiful and willing elf-maidens!”

"She's under the spell. How is she under the spell, Cas? She shouldn't be under the spell!"

"I don't know. I can't transport her back from here, though, and I'm not strong enough to take on any more elves."

"I've got her." Dean threw Charlie over his shoulder and carried her back up the trail. She pitched a fit the entire way, until Cas eventually put her to sleep.

Dean set her down gently slightly up the trail from where the three elves still lay unconscious. “Well, I guess we've got someone under the spell, even if it isn't me. Now we need something originating from their world,” he nodded at one of the unconscious elves, taking out his knife to cut himself a lock of elven hair. “And we’re set.”

“I can’t perform the spell today, Dean. I wasn't counting on my powers being weakened, and I wasn't expecting there to be so many elves.”

“Performance issues, huh?" Dean smirked. It would've been funnier if he weren't seriously aroused by the angel's flushed, disheveled appearance. "Uh, okay. Let’s get Charlie back to the hotel, and we’ll figure out what to do from there.”

“Give me a moment,” Cas breathed.

“Mmhmm,” Dean grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled Cas in for another kiss. Castiel melted into him, a moan escaping his lips. Dean pulled back an inch, smirking down at his angel. “Okay, now we can go.”

Cas opened his mouth to say something, then paused, thinking it over. “Did Sam say something to you?” he asked cautiously.

“ _Sam?_ Did Sam say  _what_ , Cas?”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Cas,” Dean growled, eyes narrowing.

“We were talking...He wanted to talk about you and me…" Cas stammered.

“When was this?” Dean growled angrily.

“Two days ago? Dean, I don’t want you to be angry with me, if you want, I’ll—“

“It's not _you_ I'm angry with, Cas,” Dean patted the angel playfully on the cheek, “It's Sam. I think the little son of a bitch has been trying to set us up," Dean paused thoughtfully. "You good to take us back? We can walk if you’re not up to it.”

Castiel bent down and touched Charlie’s forehead again, and this time she disappeared at his touch. He stumbled when he stood back up.

Dean put a hand on Cas’ chest, supporting him. Cas smiled sheepishly at him, placing his hand over Dean’s. Suddenly, they were standing in the living room of the hotel, an unconscious Charlie on the couch and a bewildered Sam kneeling beside her.


	6. The Struggles of Being an Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Dean return with Charlie in tow, and now they have to wait another twenty-four hours before they can perform the spell. Lots of feelings and misunderstandings occur...

“What the hell happened?” Sam demanded as he checked Charlie’s pulse.

Castiel sagged against Dean, who caught the angel and held him upright. “Whoa there, Cas. Come on, let’s sit you down,” Dean said, gently helping Cas into the arm chair beside the couch.

“Does somebody want to tell me what’s going on?”

“Relax, Sammy. All things considered, it could have gone worse.”

“Seriously? Because from where I’m standing, it looks pretty bad, Dean. Charlie’s passed out, you’re not under any spells, and what the hell is even wrong with Cas?”

"Apparently Cas’ mojo doesn't work full swing when we're between worlds. He couldn't zap us away. And that’s just the _first_  of our problems. Then, as it turns out, Charlie’s _not_ immune. So I hate to say I told you so, but here we are…”

“So Charlie’s under the spell right now?” Sam asked.

“Right. Cas had to knock her out cuz she was fighting tooth and nail to get to the friggin’ elves.”

“So you actually _saw_ them? Why aren't you under the spell? How did you get out? How many of them were there? Wait…just, start from the beginning.”

“Yeah. It's kind of a long story. You okay, Cas? You need anything?”

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas sighed, getting exasperated, “I just need to rest.”

“Gotcha,” Dean said, perching on the armrest of Cas’ chair. Sam wondered if Dean realized how close they were sitting. “Okay, so we were almost to the tree when three of them jumped us—“

“—and by that, Dean means they came out from behind a tree and began speaking with us,” Cas interrupted. His head was resting against the back of the chair, eyes closed. “They didn't actually fight us.”

“Uh, thanks, Cas…”

“That’s usually how you two use the phrase,” Cas defended himself, “I was just clarifying.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the angel and—Sam’s eyebrows shot up—ruffled a hand through Cas’ hair. Dean’s smile fell a little when he looked up and saw the shocked look Sam was giving them. Dean cleared his throat. “Anyway, they caught us off guard and then Cas tried to send me back here but couldn't, and Charlie went under the spell and tried to leave with them and Cas dropped all three of them—which was kind of awesome, actually. I would've helped, but I wasn't exactly in my right mind, per say…but we did get this.” He held up a lock of dark hair.

“Whoa,” Sam said, getting up to examine it. “What were they like?”

“Friggin’ right out of Lord of the Rings, man. You know, tall, graceful, beautiful…except even more so. They _obviously_ weren't human, which kind of made them even more interesting. But they were kinda creepy, too. There was something predator-like about them. Different than the usual things we hunt. I dunno,” Dean shrugged. “I’ll be glad when the things are trapped in their own world.”

“Well, we have all the spell components now,” Sam said. “Charlie’s blood, the hair…as soon as Cas is feeling better…”

“We’ll have to wait until just before they come through tomorrow morning,” Cas said.

“Are you going to be okay to do it, though?” Sam asked.

"I’ll be okay.”

“So what do we do about Charlie until then?”

“She’ll sleep for a few more hours,” Cas answered. “Depending on how she acts when she wakes up, we could just keep her asleep.”

Sam nodded. That would be an easy solution. But this did put their Destiel plans on hold… ”So, Dean. Why aren't you under the spell?”

Dean shrugged. “Beats me, man…I wasfor like, a minute, but I guess I just sort of snapped out of it. I don’t know how it happened.”

Dean was a good liar. He had to be—he lied professionally. Normally, people have tells, little fidgets or reactions they have when they lie. Dean didn't have any tells.

And that’s how Sam knew he was lying. Sam knew how Dean behaved normally, how he sometimes wouldn't look Sam’s way when he was telling the _truth_ or how Dean sometimes fidgeted when he spoke.

So when Dean shrugged a little too casually, his eyes locked on Sam’s, not fidgeting at all, Sam immediately got suspicious.

"Really? So you have _no idea_ how you could’ve snapped out of it? Nothing happened, or…”

"I don’t know, Sam. Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth, okay?”

“I never liked that expression,” Cas observed, his nose scrunching up.

Dean snorted. “My point is, if I’d stayed under the spell Cas wouldn't have been able to protect both me _and_ Charlie.”

“That’s true,” Sam sighed. “So what did they look like?”

“The elves? One of them was a dude…he was like a real life Thranduil. One of the chicks was, uh, thin and dark-haired, the other was blonde and curvy, I think…”

“You _think?_ Is that all you've got? Normally you give everything from her clothes to her bra size, Dean—no matter how many times I ask you not to.”

“Shut up,” Dean blushed, “I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind, you know.”

 

Of course he remembered more than that. He was a bit hazy on the details, but he remembered the gist of it. The elves were beautiful creatures, soft and gentle, magic and mystery infused in their every movement. Their power was subtle and cloying, their voices melodic and smooth. They were expressive creatures, Dean remembered how they reacted to every word and they wore their emotions clear as day. They were like liquid silver, flowing and sure and beautiful in a flawless kind of way.

They were everything Cas was not.

Maybe that’s why Dean wasn't interested in the spell. He was only interested in Cas. Rough, disheveled, and uncertain. All it took was Castiel’s kiss to remember what the spell made him forget.

It was a working theory.

What the hell was that kiss, anyway? His mind was reeling. He thought if anyone was going to initiate things, it was going to be him. Probably when he was drunk.

And Cas was trying his hardest not to look at him. It was not good. It was exactly what Dean was afraid would happen.

Cas didn't look at him for the next few hours, blushing and tripping over his sentences whenever Dean asked him something.

And Sammy noticed. Boy, did Sammy notice. Dean watched him watching them like thy were animals in a cage or puppets on a string.

“Hey, Sam—I’m going on a quick Walgreen’s run. Come with.”

“Uh…why?” Sam asked, looking up from his laptop. Cas looked away, mouth pulling into a tight line.

“Because I asked you to.”

“Am I in trouble?” Sam asked, laughing nervously.

"Nah, of course not,” Dean scoffed. “No, I just need help carrying the bags, and Cas here has to stay here with Charlie.”

Dean could tell by little brother’s expression that Sam knew he was in trouble.

 

“What the hell, dude?” Dean turned on him the second they were outside. “I know what you've been doing.”

Shit. “You’re going to have to be more specific, man.”

“You've been trying to set up me and Cas,” Dean accused. He was livid. He was wearing the expression he used just before he cut the head off a vamp or blow-torched a rugaroo.

“You’re still on that?” he laughed incredulously, “Dean, I told you—“

“Cas told me you talked to him.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “He _told_ you?”

“So you _are_ trying to set us up?!”

“First tell me what Cas told you.”

“Not until you tell me what Cas told _you!_ ”

“Fine! I've been trying to set you two up, okay? Is that what you want to hear?”

“I _knew_ it! You've been acting weird all week, and then Charlie—oh, _fuck no._ Tell me Charlie isn't in on this.”

“Well—“

“God dammit, Sam. Seriously??”

“Okay. To be fair, I really just called her for _advice_ , and I didn't even name names. But then she showed up and we had to talk about it—“

“ _You can’t discuss my love life with Charlie, Sam!_ Come on!”

“So you admit there _is_ a love life to discuss?”

" _Dammit, Sam!_ Don’t do that! Why are you so desperate for me and Cas to suck face, anyways? It’s weird, dude.”

“I’m not trying to get you to _suck face,_ Dean. That’s not what this is about. That's…really gross, actually.”

“What’s it about, then?” Dean demanded, glaring at Sam.

“It’s about you and Cas. Together. And happy. I know it sounds crazy, and you’re clearly mad—“

“I’m not mad.”

Sam shut his mouth, blinking at Dean. Dean was actually smiling. “…What?”

"I said I’m not mad.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Sam began, trying to figure out just how much danger he was in, here. “But why not? I would be, if I were you.”

“I just think it’s funny. Hilarious, actually. Me and Cas getting together is so absurdly impossible that I laugh just _thinking_ about it,” Dean said, turning to the Impala.

Don’t do it. Sam Winchester, don’t you do it. You made a promise. But then, sometimes promises had to be broken for the greater good of all.

“That’s not what Cas seemed to think,” Sam called, flinching when Dean slammed the Impala door and marched back to Sam with all the force of a hurricane. Sam immediately regretted saying anything.

“What did he say?” Dean demanded, invading Sam’s space.

“Dude—“

“Tell me what Cas said, Sam.”

“I can’t. I promised I wouldn't,” Sam said. He was trying to decide which was worse: invoking the wrath of Castiel, vengeful angel of the Lord, or invoking the wrath of Dean, pissed off older brother. But hadn't Cas kind of voided the promise by telling Dean about their talk? And maybe knowing Cas cared too was the only encouragement Dean needed.

Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam. “You can’t tell me? Seriously? No, what you _can't_ do is just drop something like that and then not tell me the rest! Not fair, man! It’s about me, anyways!”

“Dean, you sound just like a twelve year old girl right now,” Sam laughed. “What, you wanna know if Cas thinks you’re cute?” he teased.

“I’m not playing with you right now, Sam.”

“Can’t you see what this is, Dean? This is you freaking out because you love an angel and you wanna know if he loves you back!”

Dean took a deep breath. “I know that’s what this is, Sam. I just kinda wish you didn't.”

“You… _what?_ ”

“You heard me. Shut up,” Dean snapped, because now Sam was grinning like an idiot, “Don’t look at me like that. Just…go, and don’t forget the toothpaste.”

“Wait, we’re not going to Walgreen’s?”

"You are,” Dean said, tossing Sam the keys, “I’m going back inside.”

“You mean…” Sam smiled.

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam beamed, “I’ll uh, go to Walgreen’s. I don’t know the way, though, so I might, um, _get lost_  a few times on the way there.”

"All the better,” Dean smirked. “But when you get back, you are telling me _everything_ you've done to try and get me and Cas to hook up, got it?” Dean shoved Sam lightly on his way back into the hotel.

Sam couldn't resist: the hard part was past, and his revenge could begin.

“I’ll start with your cinnamon kink, then,” he called after Dean, laughing when his big brother flipped him off. 

 

Cas should have learned his lesson a long time ago. As an angel, there was a lot he didn't understand about the human world and about how humans interact. He’d been learning, though. Whenever Sam or Dean taught him something about humans—what they should or should not do—he’d tried to listen. Personal space, for example. Dean always taught him that humans liked to keep a certain amount of distance between themselves. Cas tried to listen, even though he didn't necessarily understand.

There were some things, of course, he knew to be wrong—by both human and angelic standards. Things made all too easy given his powers.

Eavesdropping, for example. It was much too easy for Castiel to eavesdrop. He used to do it fairly regularly, when he would feel Dean thinking about him or if the Winchesters were in trouble and might end up needing his help.

He hadn't eavesdropped on the Winchesters since his partnership with Crowley. Apart from the immorality of it, he learned that eavesdropping could have consequences—like that time he mentioned Superman, back when he was working with Crowley and Sam, Dean, and Bobby were just starting to suspect it.

But sometimes, he would pop in to say something to Sam and Dean and would hear something interesting. He might wait a moment or two before revealing himself, just to hear the end of what they were saying. He couldn't help it. It’s not like there was anything wrong with it; he never heard anything too personal.

But then something like this happened. He’d overheard something _bad,_ something that made him curse his powers, humanity, and God.

The door burst open and Dean rushed in. “ _Cas,”_ he growled, heading straight for the angel.

Cas jumped up, eyes wide. He vanished, only to reappear on the other side of the couch, so that it was positioned between him and Dean. The hunter paused. “Dean. I thought you were going to the store with Sam.”

“We decided it wasn't really a two person job,” Dean shrugged, his annoyingly facetious, devil-may-care grin plastered on his face.

“You talked to him?” Castiel didn't even have to ask.

“Yeah, Cas, I talked to him.”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Cas snapped.

“Like what?” the hunter asked. He looked utterly bewildered by this point.

“Like a caress. I’m an angel of the lord, not your pet.”

“I never said you were. What the hell’s wrong?” Dean asked, brows furrowed. “Cas, I don’t want to fight with you right now. I don’t want to fight with you ever again, get it? I came back in here 'cause I need you, Cas. Like, now.”

“Romantically?” Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean.

"Yeah, man,” Dean chucked, circling the couch, “ _romantically.”_

“So the idea of you and me getting together isn't _so absurdly impossible that you laugh just thinking about it_?” Cas asked.

Dean froze, eyes widening. He paled. “Cas, were you… _were you listening to us?_ ”

Castiel looked down at his feet, ashamed. That only made him madder because _Dean_ was the one that should be feeling upset, not him. “I didn't mean to. I was just dropping in to tell you that Charlie was starting to wake up. I apparently dropped in at the wrong time.”

“She looks pretty unconscious to me,” Dean growled.

“She was crazed and disoriented when she woke up, I decided it was better to keep her asleep until we could lift the spell.”

"So…you didn't hear anything I said after that?” Dean asked.

“No. And I’m glad. Now that you’re here, Dean, _you_ can watch Charlie.”

“ _You’re leaving?_ Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“I don’t _live_ to serve the Winchesters, Dean, believe it or not. I have other responsibilities—responsibilities I've been neglecting since this case started. Call me if she gives you any trouble. If not, I’ll probably come back in a few hours.”

“Cas, _wait!”_

The angel was already gone.

 

Sam returned two hours later to find Charlie still asleep, Dean in the armchair beside her, visibly pouting.

“Uh…is Cas here?”

“No.” Dean barked. Sam should’ve taken that as a warning not to push, but there was _no way_ he was letting either of those two dickheads fuck things up when they were so close.

“ _Why not?_ ”

Dean cringed. “You know how we were talking earlier, and I said that the idea of me and Cas together was so impossible it made me laugh?”

“Oh no.”

“Oh, yes.”

"He heard?”

“Better yet, that’s _all_ he heard. He didn't hear anything I said before or after.”

“Shit.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Did you explain it to him?”

“Nope. He said he didn't want to hear any more and vanished. He said he’d be back either later tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“Dean Winchester, you _call him and make things right._ ”

“No.”

For a second, Sam imagined pulling his gun out and shooting Dean in the head. “ _Why not_?”

“Because he was eavesdropping on us, Sam. He deserves this. Let him be pissed.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?”

No matter how much Sam argued and pleaded, Dean refused to call Cas down. Sam threatened to do it for him, but Dean said he wouldn't speak to the angel even if he did. Cas was pissed about what he heard, but Dean was equally pissed _that_ he heard. Around nine Dean left for the bar, telling Sam it was his turn to watch Charlie.

Dean returned dead drunk around midnight, took a shower, and locked himself in his room.

“Uh, Cas?” Sam said out loud when he was pretty sure Dean was asleep, “Could use some help down here with Charlie…”

“Sam, I—“ the familiar gruff voice came from behind him. Sam whirled to face him.

“I don’t care, Cas. I mean it. I don’t give a damn about you two anymore. I don’t care whatever pissy little slight you two are fighting about now, but you don’t disappear in the middle of a case, okay? We have to be up early tomorrow, and I’d like a little sleep before then. Can you just…watch Charlie?”

“Yes, Sam,” Cas frowned. “I’m sorry—“

Sam threw his hand up and followed Dean’s example, locking himself in his room.

 

Cas sat with a sigh, looking at Charlie’s peaceful sleeping form.

He’d messed things up. Dean had messed things up. Sam had messed things up, too, the way he’d been trying to shove Dean and Cas together.

So Dean didn't want to have anything to do with Castiel romantically. It hurt to hear it straight from the hunter’s mouth, but it was what he had always suspected. He was ashamed of the way he’d spoken to Dean earlier—it wasn't the human’s fault.

They could still be friends, though, right? Castiel hadn’t burned that bridge with his earlier behavior? If he couldn’t have Dean romantically, he could still have the hunter as a friend, at least? He could live with that.

In the morning he would apologize to Dean Winchester, tell him that he understood. And still, maybe someday…

Castiel felt waves of fear coming from Dean’s room. The hunter was having another nightmare. Castiel rose and pushed the door open, fully aware that he shouldn't be doing what he was doing.

One more night, then. He’d allow himself one more night. One more night of being Dean Winchester’s protector, one more night of being more than friends with the most important human in Castiel’s universe. He walked toward the bed, admiring Dean’s sleeping figure. The human had kicked the comforter off the bed, and thrashed about with a pained expression on his face.

“Dean,” Castiel whispered, placing a hand on Dean’s chest. The hunter immediately relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief, like Cas had taken all of his pain away.

Castiel looked back toward the living room, where he could see Charlie sleeping peacefully on the couch.

Cas grabbed the chair from the corner of the room and pulled it up next to the bed. "I'm watching over you, Dean," he whispered, tilting his head as Dean sighed. The human dreamed peacefully the rest of the night.

Castiel was gone before he woke up.

 

Dean walked into the living room, stretching. He froze. “Cas,” he nodded curtly.

“Dean.”

Sam, over at the table, pretended not to care. “So are we heading out soon?”

“We can leave as soon as Dean is dressed,” Cas replied. “We have to hurry. We want to perform the spell before any elves begin leaking through.”

Dean looked out the window. There was no mist outside yet. “Just give me a minute,” he mumbled returning to his room.

While Dean was getting dressed, Sam took some of Charlie’s blood and Cas prepared the spell ingredients. None of them spoke, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Sam frowned at Cas. Maybe he had pushed too hard. He’d tried to get them over years of sexual tension in one week, and that was a mistake. From this point on, he would be more subtle. He’d take his time.

Cas and Dean were obviously pissed at each other. (For no good reason, in Sam’s opinion) The sexual tension was still there, though. It was still going to happen. Maybe someday…

 

Cas transported them to the hunting trails, as far as he could manage.

“Come on,” Dean growled, “Let’s get this over with. Sam, if you see anything that moves, shut your eyes. We don’t know why I’m immune, but let’s just assume you aren't.”

"Got it, Dean,” Sam sighed. “We've been over this ten times.”

“Just making sure. You’re the one who said that Charlie would be immune.”

They made it to the tree without a single elf sighting. Dean and Sam started drawing sigils Cas taught them on the tree. Cas got out the lock of hair and the vial of Charlie’s blood and started performing the spell.

Dean watched his angel work. He’d fucked things up. He’d explain what had happened to Cas if he wasn't so damn stubborn. Maybe it was just better to wait until this whole thing blew over, to let things go back to the way things were before and take a crack at getting with Cas another time.

Cas stopped speaking, and tilted his head like he was listening for something. "The wall is closing," he said. "I don't think the elves will be a problem anymore?"

"That's it?" Sam asked, looking at Dean skeptically. "Really?"

"That's it. All that's left is to heal Charlie." Cas disappeared with a flutter of his wings.

"Did that winged Dick just disappear on us?" Dean asked.

It was going to happen, right? Him and Cas? They’d been dancing around it for years. They’d gotten so much closer in the past week. _They’d kissed._ Or maybe it was like that episode of Scrubs…how did it go? After something like this happens, you only have forty-eight hours to kiss before you were permanently stuck in the friend zone…

It wasn't going to happen within the twenty-four hours Dean had left, that much was obvious. But maybe that entire theory was bullshit, anyways. It might just happen. You know, maybe someday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys, that's it! Thanks for sticking around! I'm so grateful to each and every one of you for sticking around and reading this far!  
> ...  
> ...  
> awww, you didn't think I'd leave you with that, did you? :D One final chapter to come in the very near future!


	7. Someday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. This is it. What Dean and Cas have been building up to for years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty much all smut, guys, so if that's not your thing, you might wanna go find something else to read :P

“Uh, Cas?” Dean asked out loud to the empty room, feeling like an idiot, “I really hope you’ve got your ears on, man, because I seriously need your help. Sam went for a jog in the trails this morning, and then the mist showed up, and…he hasn’t come back yet, Cas.”

“I’m here, Dean,” the rough voice came from behind him. Dean whirled around to see Cas, back in the trench coat now, watching Dean with concern. He hadn’t appeared as close to Dean as he usually did.

“Are you _kidding_ me?! Cas, I called you like fifty times yesterday!”

After casting the spell and healing Charlie, Cas mumbled an excuse about heaven and left. Sam and Charlie spent the evening yelling at Dean, telling him to do something about it.

They had no idea how many times Dean tried calling for Castiel.

“Dean, if Sam’s really in danger, there’s no time to argue—“

“Sam’s not in any danger,” Dean scoffed.

Cas narrowed his eyes, “there are no elves?”

“They’re long gone, far as I can tell. I was just trying to get you down here.”

"If I’m not needed, then—“

“No, don’t leave!” Dean jumped forward and grabbed Castiel’s arm. “You’re down here now. Just stay a while longer.”

Cas sighed and looked down at where Dean was still gripping his arm. Dean let go immediately. “Where _is_ Sam?” Castiel asked, looking around.

“He’s driving Charlie to the airport. We’re probably going to head back to the bunker when he gets back.”

“I am going to miss this place,” Cas smiled at the living room fondly, “And how is Charlie?”

“She’s fine. She was _pissed_ when she found out she couldn’t remember anything about the elves, but she’ll get over it eventually,” Dean laughed nervously.

He cautiously took a step forward, testing the waters, and was relieved when Cas didn’t move away. He chose to take it as a good sign.

“Dean,” Cas began, looking away, “I’m sorry.” Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I may have overreacted—“

" _Shut up_ , Cas. You don’t get to apologize, you hear me?”

Cas thought that was unfair. He opened his mouth to say just that.

“Just listen to me, okay?" Dean asked before Cas could argue. You’re good at that, right?”

Castiel’s lips pressed together in a thin line.

“I’m sorry. That was low. But hear me out, okay? Please? You don’t get to apologize because I’m the one that fucked things up, got it? I was stupid and insensitive and I was _so wrong_ , Cas.”

Dean was standing right in front of Cas now, less than a foot away. Cas was looking at anything but him, his expression like that of a kicked puppy. Dean caught his gaze and held it, taking another step closer.

“What I said—what you heard me say—you have to know that was a lie, right?”

“Why would you lie about that?” Cas asked skeptically, studying every line of Dean’s face.

“Because I didn’t want Sam to know about whatever the hell this is! I just wanted some time—even if it was just for a few hours—to have you all to myself, without having Sam and his smug ass poking around in our business. _You’re mine, Cas_ , and I wanted to seal the deal before letting the rest of the world stick its nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“You wanted to have me for yourself?” Cas repeated, head tilting to the side.

“Yeah,” Dean said, voice catching in his throat under the intensity of Castiel’s gaze. Cas glanced pointedly around the empty room.

“You could have me now.”

Dean blinked at Cas, trying to comprehend what the angel just said to him. “ _Fuck, Cas.”_ Dean breathed, “Do you have any idea what you’re saying half the time?”

Dean brought his hand up to grip the back of Castiel’s neck, closing the space between him and his angel.

It was his third time catching Cas by surprise with a kiss, and Castiel’s reaction was something he’d never get enough of. Cas let out a surprised grunt and his eyes widened in surprise, his hand shooting up to grab a fistful of Dean’s shirt. It only took a few seconds for Cas to kiss him back, mimicking Dean’s motions.

Dean pulled back a hair, smiling at Cas’ half-hearted protest.

“Just close your eyes, Cas.” Dean breathed. Cas did as he was told, lips parting with pleasure and head tilting back when Dean leaned to trail kisses along his jaw.

 _Holy shit_ but Castiel tasted good. Dean kissed Cas from his jaw up to his ear, loving the feel of Cas’ scruff against his lips. “So what do you say, Cas?” Dean breathed into the sensitive patch of skin between Cas’ ear and neck.

The angel's breath came out harsh and heavy, one hand digging into Dean’s hip and the other desperately clutching at Dean’s shirt. He let out his breath in a rush at Dean’s question.

“What do I say about wha—?” Cas broke off into a low moan when Dean bit gently down on his earlobe, his tongue tracing it lightly. Dean laughed, low and rough, into the crook of Cas’ neck.

Dean ushered Cas back against the wall, lifting his head to meet Cas’ searching lips again, and Dean pushed closer, thoroughly exploring the inside of Cas' mouth. Cas parted his legs slightly, letting Dean slip a thigh between them, and rolled his hips tentatively. Dean moan into the angel’s mouth and Castiel decided he wanted to hear more of those sounds.

Cas took Dean’s reaction as a good sign and pressed into Dean again, with more confidence this time. Dean growled, carding a hand through Cas' dark hair. The feel of Castiel’s hard-on pressed against his own probably could have had Dean coming undone right there, and they hadn’t even gotten past ‘heavy makeout sesh’ yet. If Dean even had it in him to care, he might’ve been embarrassed at how quickly he was falling apart under the angel's stern glare.

This was _way_ hotter than anything Dean had ever experienced before. It wasn’t just the dude thing, it was _Cas._ Every moan and whimper the angel, usually so stern and put together, let loose sent a shock of electricity down Dean’s spine.

He pushed himself off Cas, ignoring the angel’s possessive growl. Well, he _tried_ to ignore it, but his pants suddenly got a whole lot tighter.

His hands started at Castiel’s shoulders and he worked his way in slow, teasing circles down Castiel’s torso, over Cas' white button up. When he got to Cas’ belt, he leaned in, only and inch away from Cas’ mouth but not actually letting himself kiss those delicious, perpetually-chapped lips. “So whataya think,” he began again, undoing the angel’s belt. The angel’s eyes snapped open, focusing on Dean with even more intensity than usual. His pupils were fully dilated, hardly any blue visible, and his dark hair stuck out in every direction. He looked like he did that first time they met. Dean tossed Castiel’s belt aside. “Do you think you can forgive me?” Dean finished, his voice rough and breathy.

“I’ll have to think about it,” Cas replied, sucking in a breath when Dean’s hand traveled _lower_. Dean cupped Cas' growing erection, rubbing through the fabric gently with his thumb. “Dean,” the angel groaned, arching against Dean's touch. “It feels--“

“I know,” Dean purred, loving the sight of Castiel coming undone by his hand. He pushed the trench coat off Cas’ shoulders. When Cas understood what he was doing, he helped, also sloughing off the black suit jacket he wore under the coat.

Cas caught a fistful of Dean’s shirt again and grabbed the hunter’s shoulder, his hand approximately lining up with the handprint he left from that first day. Dean hissed out Castiel's name.

Suddenly, the floor dropped out from beneath Dean and he held tighter to Cas, the only thing he was sure of in that moment. It was over in a second and they were in Dean’s room, the back of Dean’s legs pressed against the bed.

While Dean recovered from the unexpected transportation, Castiel started to unbutton Dean’s shirt. After the second button or so, he got impatient and simply ripped the shirt off Dean, sending buttons flying everywhere.

"That was my favorite shirt!” Dean protested, eyeing Cas. He ducked his head to let Cas pull his undershirt up over his head.

“I’ll fix it later,” Cas promised, pressing a chaste, apologetic kiss to Dean’s throat. When Dean’s breath hitched, Cas kissed him again—harder—in the same spot, nipping and sucking. Dean moaned, loud and long, his head snapping back and his eyes squeezing shut. He hooked his thumbs around Cas' belt loops and pulled the angel flush against him. “Jesus Christ, Cas.”

Castiel looked up to glare at Dean. He pressed a hand to the hunter’s bare chest and shoved, letting Dean collapse onto the mattress. The human shimmied further up the bed and the angel climbed after him, settling down so he was straddling Dean’s hips.

He leaned forward slowly, hands roaming up and down Dean’s muscular chest, enjoying the wide eyed look the hunter was giving him. He traced Dean's anti-possession tattoo lightly. “I’m sorry, Dean—what was that?” Cas breathed into Dean’s neck, like Dean had done to him. He held Dean's arms down, pinning them at his sides. The hunter moaned and rolled his hips up against Cas. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I said _Jesus Christ, Cas,”_ the hunter growled, “I’m not in the fucking mood to talk about my blasphemy with you right now, God dammit.”

Cas bit gently into Dean’s soldier, soliciting a whimper from the hunter.

Cas sat back up and touched Dean’s pants. A second later they were gone—along with Dean’s boxers—and Dean Winchester was laying naked beneath him.

It took Dean a second to realize what had happened. “Seriously, Cas?” He reached up and grabbed Castiel’s blue tie, half-pulling the angel down to him and half-pulling himself up to the angel. They met halfway with a sloppy kiss, an uncoordinated tangle of tongues and teeth and lips.

Dean pulled Cas down and rolled so that he was on top, positioned between Cas’ legs. Cas grunted in surprise, his lips never leaving Dean’s. “Oh, Cas,” he whispered, a smile on his lips, “You have so much to learn. Undressing is one of the best parts. _Watch_.”

Dean sat up, kneeling, and pulled Cas up closer so the angel’s legs were wrapped around his hips. Dean leaned forward and planted a light kiss on Cas’ lips. He looked right into Castiel’s blue eyes, gaze never wavering, while he slowly undid Cas’ tie and threw it to the floor.

He then proceeded to unbutton Castiel’s shirt slowly, one button at a time, looking up at Cas through his eyelashes while breathing lightly on the bare skin of Castiel’s chest. Cas fidgeted beneath his lips.

Dean tore the shirt off Castiel, finally able take in the smooth planes of Castiel’s chest and the sharp hip bones that Dean wanted to lean down and bite. The angel wasn’t _muscular,_ per say, but he was lean and firm and beautifully made. Cas ran a hand through Dean’s hair and pulled, lifting Dean’s face up to his and kissing him fiercely. Dean trailed kisses back down Castiel’s chest until he reached Cas’ pants.

He slowly undid the button and pulled off Cas’ pants, mouthing at Cas’ erection through the angel’s briefs—yeah, apparently Jimmy was a briefs kind of guy. Cas moaned and rocked upwards, seeking more of that warmth and friction. “Dean, please,” the angel whimpered.

“What do you want, Cas?” Dean teased, smiling up at him as he pulled off the last of Cas’ clothing. “Could it be this?” he breathed, running his tongue down the length of Cas’ erection. Cas threw his head back and gripped at the sheets, mouth open in a wordless plea. Dean smirked and closed his mouth completely around Cas’ cock.

Dean had never done anything like this. He just did what he liked and hoped Cas liked it, too. He certainly seemed to, given the way he was squirming and moaning against the sheets. It was weird, but it was completely worth is seeing Cas coming completely undone beneath him, and it was driving Dean crazy.

Dean lifted his head off Cas' dick with a slight  _pop_ , smiling at Cas' low whine. He pulled Cas into a deep kiss, letting Cas get a taste of himself. One hand reached down and started stroking Cas, quickening his pace when Cas moaned beneath him. Cas reached down to do the same, and Dean almost lost it when Cas took hold of his dick, wearing his customary perplexed-but-intrigued expression. " _Fuck, Cas."_ He groaned, "A little bit harder--thatta boy." Dean showed Cas the proper pace, teaching the angel the basics of how to give a hand job.

“Fuck. That’s it, Cas.” Dean growled. “I’m taking you _now_ , you got it?”

“Finally,” Cas breathed.

“Hey,” Dean warned, shoving Cas playfully as he jumped off the bed to find the bottle of lube Sam got him as a joke.

It wasn't Dean's first time doing this part, thankfully. Granted, he hadn't done it since high school...and it was with a chick, then. He knew he had to take it slow, the first time, so he wouldn't hurt Cas. Although, could he even hurt the angel, really? He didn't want to risk it. 

He started with one finger, just up to his first knuckle, letting Cas' muscles adjust to the foreign presence. He slowly worked his way up to two fingers, then three, slowly pumping them in and out of Cas and  _loving_ the way the angel moaned and shuddered under Dean's touch. 

He wasn't really sure how much lube to use, but he made sure to be liberal with it. Leaning over Cas, he positioned the head of his dick against Cas' opening. He reached down and cupped Cas' jaw, looking into his favorite, bright blue eyes. He slowly pushed himself inside, watching Cas' head tilt back, his eyes fluttering shut.

" _Dammit, Dean,_ " Cas swore. " _Move._ "

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He pulled out slowly and slammed back in, increasing his speed when he knew the angel could handle it. " _Cas,"_ he moaned against the angel's neck, biting at the skin beneath his lips. 

Cas adjusted their position slightly, spreading his legs just a little, and suddenly he was putty in Dean's hands. His fingernails dug into Dean's arms and he gasped with every thrust. If Cas kept making sounds like that, Dean wasn't going to last another second. He reached down and helped Cas to finish, finally getting to see Cas completely and wholly undone beneath him. As he expected, the sight was all he needed to push him over the edge.

What he didn't expect was everything else. The surge of angelic grace rushing through his body, the  _pop_ as every light in the hotel room went out at once, the sound of fluttering wings. 

He collapsed onto Castiel's chest with a sigh.

 

Sam walked into the room, surprised when the light didn’t turn on. He walked over to one of the lamps, but its light bulb was blown out too.

“What the hell?” He asked out loud, fishing his phone out of his pocket and turning on the flashlight app. “Dean?”

That’s when his eyes fell on the discarded trench coat.

“Oh. Shit,” a huge grin spread across his face as he looked over at Dean’s closed door. “I’ll…uh, just go to the diner, then?”

 

"He gone?" Dean asked Cas in a whisper. They were still lying in Dean's bed, neither of them feeling very inclined to move. Dean didn't think he was physically capable.

"Yes," Cas breathed against Dean's cheek. "Dean, was that...was that good? For you?"

Dean surprised Cas by letting out a loud laugh. "You're joking, right? I don't think I've ever had it so good in my life. I think I passed out for a minute at the end there."

"So..." the angel smiled, "this is something we'll keep doing?"

"Now that we started, I don't know if we'll ever be able to stop," Dean smiled, the only thought running through his head being just how much he loved the angel wrapped in his arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, everyone! LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT! Pretty please [go follow me on tumblr](http://fantasy-novelist.tumblr.com/) (I follow back) and, if there's ever a fanfic you really want to read but you don't really wanna write it, feel free to send me a prompt! I'm always interested in fun new ideas! (I 100% mean it.)  
> Update: There's now a [sequel!!!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1833370/) It's just a short one, and it's so sweet it'll rot your teeth, money back guarantee.


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